


Always

by and_mister_comatose_over_there



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_mister_comatose_over_there/pseuds/and_mister_comatose_over_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Dean and Castiel fall in love in high school, then Dean leaves because of reasons and Castiel marries an asshat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This is my first delve into fanfiction, so please be kind.  
> Constructive criticism is not only accepted, but encouraged.  
> I'm going to try to update this weekly. No idea how long it's going to end up being, so bear with me.  
> This fic takes place in a beautiful reality in which gay marriage is legal in every state.  
> Most of this is told through Castiel's POV, but I'm thinking of including a chapter or two through Dean's later on.

The moment was seared into his brain, a memory that refuses to fade no matter how many times he's tried to erase it-- the first moment Castiel Novak caught sight of Dean Winchester. There were no proverbial fireworks, and the world didn't slow down around the two of them the way that perfect instant is portrayed in movies. As a matter of fact, there was no significant sign that this moment would mean anything whatsoever to either of them, except for the way it felt like Castiel's heart was trying to claw its way up his throat. That was nothing unusual, though; the young boy had always been a bit uneasy around anyone he wasn't somewhat familiar with. So, when his third grade teacher made a point to introduce him to the new kid in the middle of his lunch period, Castiel immediately felt the telltale signs of a miniature panic attack.

  
"Castiel, this is Dean." Mr. Kripke had said quietly. "He's going to be with us for the rest of the year, and I'd appreciate it if you showed him around." The stricken look on Castiel's face must have warranted another explanation, because the teacher's eyes turned sympathetic and he changed his tactic. "No one else is finished with their lunch. Dean needs to find his locker and set up his art station before the rest of the class is through, and the only empty seat is at your table. You're the most qualified, Castiel. I wouldn't trust anyone else in the classroom alone."

  
At this, the young boy beamed. He nodded and stood, grabbing his empty tray and motioning for Dean to follow. He felt the boy behind him as he slipped his tray into the kitchen and led the way from the cafeteria.

  
"So, um... Castiel?" He tried not to bristle at the thought of having a conversation. His brother had teased him mercilessly for how socially inept he was. It didn't matter if Gabriel was popular; Castiel was just fine without friends. "That's an... Interesting name..."

  
The boy nodded in response, glancing over at Dean. He was obviously nervous, and Castiel wouldn't blame him for that. It must be terribly stressful to just be thrown into a building full of people you've never met before. He led the boy down a hall, turning to the right and tromping up a staircase.

  
"My mother has a thing for angels." He shrugged his reply, his brain searching desperately for some sort of ice-breaking topic. "So, where are you from?"

  
The sight of Dean exhaling and slightly relaxing was Castiel's sign that he had asked an appropriate question.

  
"Kansas." He replied smoothly, "Just me, my mom, and my little brother."

  
"And your father?"

  
The question was automatic, and Castiel frowned as he asked it, opening the classroom door. He generally wasn't curious about other people. When no response came, he turned to face his companion, flipping the light on.

  
"Dean?"

  
The boy had bristled nervously, and Castiel couldn't help but notice the way his fists clenched at his sides. He made a mental note: Dean Winchester's father was a sore subject. Naturally, Castiel resorted to what he normally did when he became anxious. He rambled.

 

"I've lived here my whole life. My mother and father adopted me and my brother when I was still a baby. Gabriel was 3. Apparently, they are unable to have children of their own, so they took to adopting as many as possible. Gabe and I were the first, but I have four other siblings now. Anna, Michael, Luke, and Raphael. I'm still the youngest, though, which is odd considering the fact that I've been in the family longer than them."

 

 

He forced himself to stop talking, looking up at Dean, who had visibly relaxed and was staring at him.

 

"Sorry. I talk when I get nervous." Castiel turned toward the tables in the room, moving past them to the lockers that lined the back wall.

 

"I make you nervous?" Dean's voice was closer than he had expected it to be, and Castiel jumped.

  
"Socialization, in general, makes me nervous." He responded, taking a deep breath.

  
"You use a lot of big words." Dean pointed out with a small smile.

  
"Did, um..." Castiel motioned toward the lockers. They were pale yellow, metal, and older than Mr. Kripke himself. "Were you assigned a locker number?"

  
"56." Dean's eyes raked over the wall, finding the appropriate locker and opening it, shoving his bag inside. He closed it, causing Castiel to jump at the loud, metallic noise. "That was simple enough."

  
Dean glanced toward him, and Castiel nodded.

  
"Art station." He hurried across the room to a supply closet, pulling out a basket and various tubs of art supplies. "Tell me about your brother?"

  
He asked the question cautiously, hoping that the entirety of his family wasn't off limits as far as conversation topics. If it was, he had no idea how to fill the awkward silence that seemed to follow him persistently wherever he went.

  
"Sammy." Castiel couldn't miss the sound of a smile in his voice as he spoke of his brother. "He's the smartest person I know, and he's only in kindergarten."

  
And how could he not smile at that? The grin tugged at his lips as he filled Dean's art basket with supplies: a pack of crayons, colored pencils, markers, pastels, paints, and charcoal sticks. He threw in some smudging paper and an eraser before starting to pile the tubs back into the cabinet.

  
"You talk about him as if you're already proud of what he hasn't achieved yet." Castiel chuckled.

  
"Well, yeah..." Dean followed him to their table, sitting next to him. "I know the kid's going to grow up to do something totally awesome. A doctor, maybe? Astronaut? Rocket scientist? The possibilities are endless for him."

  
"And for you?" Castiel fiddled with his pencil, setting it at the top of the slightly slanted desk and watching it roll down into an awaiting hand in his lap. "Are your possibilities limited?"

  
"I'm not exactly a genius, Cas." Dean snorted, and Castiel dropped his pencil at the sound of the nickname.

  
He paused before replying, watching Dean stand to retrieve his pencil.

  
"That just means you have to work harder, not that you don't deserve to grow up as awesome as your brother."

  
Dean took his seat, handing his pencil over and giving Castiel a smile that he couldn't help but return.

  
"Thanks, Cas."

  
The rest of the class filed in then, and Castiel couldn't help but notice the relieved look on Mr. Kripke's face as he spotted the two of them sitting quietly in the back of the room, both boys smiling for reasons neither of them could place.

  
×××××××××

  
To say that Castiel and Dean became close would be an understatement. Dean was curious enough about the familial atmosphere surrounding the Novak house that he became a permanent fixture every weekend. Zach and Naomi welcomed the young Winchester boy into their house with open arms, thrilled that Castiel seemed to be opening himself up to social situations. And Castiel was fond enough of Mary Winchester's cooking that he became a regular dinner guest almost every night of the week.

  
It was in the middle of their fourth grade year that Castiel hobbled awkwardly down the steps to his basement where Dean, Gabriel, and Sam were playing videogames, carrying a tray of turkey sandwiches. He set the tray down, smiling at the appreciation being grumbled around mouthfuls of bread.

  
"Dean," Castiel sat next to him, taking a deep breath. "I think we should get married."

  
Gabriel's snort almost drowned out the sound of Sam and Dean's chorused gasps.

  
"What?" Dean looked around the room warily, avoiding contact with the bright blue eyes staring up at him.

  
"Gabe, I'm thirsty..." Sam yanked pitifully on the cackling fourteen-year-old's sleeve, and it was obvious that the seven-year-old was trying to give his brother some privacy.

  
"Cas..." Dean's voice was patient, although Castiel could tell that he was nervous; an ominous blush was creeping its way up his neck. "Why do you think we should get married?"

  
"Gabriel..." Sam pulled at his sleeve and the older boy sighed, allowing Sam to tug him upstairs.

  
"Anna said that she and Benny are going to get married." Castiel spoke softly. He knew that he was clueless when it came to appropriate social behavior. Dean was always so good at explaining things. "I asked her what it meant, and she said that being married is promising to be with someone forever-- to love them and live with them. To tell them everything and be there for them when they're sad. I tell you everything, Dean, and you practically live here anyway."

  
There was a small smile on Dean's lips. "Guys don't marry other guys, Cas. Guys marry girls, and girls marry guys."

  
"But Charlie says that she and Rachel are getting married." Castiel frowned. "It makes no sense."

  
"Charlie and Rachel aren't getting married." Dean explained, "They're just best friends, like me and you."

  
"We're best friends?" His voice was hopeful. "I've never had a best friend."

  
"Me either..." The reply was solemn, and it made Castiel's chest throb.

  
"Charlie and Rachel say that they love each other. How can they love each other if they can't get married?"

  
"Best friends love each other, too, sometimes." Dean nodded, and Castiel bit his lip.

  
"Do you love me, Dean?"

  
He paused, thinking it over, and Castiel could almost see the gears turning thoughtfully behind those bright green eyes.

  
"I do." Dean gave the eventual response, and the blue-eyed boy beamed, sitting back into the couch as the sound of Gabriel and Sam tromping down the stairs signaled their arrival. Castiel turned his eyes back to Dean, who was still staring at him, a look of expectation on his face.

  
"What is it?"

  
"Do you?" Dean's voice was soft, but Gabriel sent them both a curious look, letting them know that he could hear.

  
Castiel took a breath, not fully understanding why Dean would ask this question. Wasn't the answer obvious? He took in the look on his friend's face, the way his jaw was slack, his eyes open and wide, looking desperately across Castiel's face for a sign of acceptance. It dawned on him then that Dean didn't know. He didn't know that Castiel didn't have a single friend before that day in third grade when Mr. Kripke had introduced them. He didn't know that Castiel hadn't had a single panic attack in the entirety of his fourth grade year because Dean relaxed him. He didn't know that Castiel spoke clearer and openly asked more questions because Dean had untied everything that had been holding him down. He opened his mouth to explain all of this, to let him know, but only two words came out.

  
"I do."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos, bookmarks, or comments on this. (:
> 
> There will be one more high school chapter after this, and then we'll get into the good part.
> 
> And, by the good part, I mean the terrible part.

The first day of high school was, inexplicably, the worst day of Castiel's life since meeting Dean. The boys walked into the building together, comparing schedules and locker locations. They were both nervous, but they were comforted by the fact that they were together. After a few uneasy classes, the two met up for lunch at a table in the back of the room.

"Winchester!" Both boys looked up to see an upper classman (sophomore, maybe?) standing a few feet from their table. Castiel immediately reached out, grabbing the sleeve of Dean's leather jacket.

"Can I help you?" Dean shoved a french fry into his mouth as he spoke.

The boy jerked his head, motioning for Dean to join him. "Name's Gordon. Let's talk."

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but stood nonetheless. Castiel let his arm fall to his side, looking up at his friend for a moment or two.

"Be right back, Cas." Dean gave him a small smile, leaving his tray and Castiel behind.

Five minutes later, a nervous-looking kid sat next to him.

"Please, tell me you're not a dick. There's not another table available with anyone who isn't."

Castiel seemed perplexed by this kid's boldness. He watched as his new companion shoved nine fries into his mouth.

"I'm not a dick." He replied, causing the guy to chuckle around his mouthful of potato.

He extended a hand once he had swallowed. "Chuck. Freshman. Future writer. Antisocial."

He accepted the handshake. "Castiel. Freshman. Future doctor. Anxiety disorder."

Chuck grinned, "A doctor with an anxiety disorder. That would make an interesting story." He pointed to the empty seatbat Cas' s side. "Your friend won't come back."

Castiel looked to Dean's tray and frowned. "How do you know that?"

"Gordon Walker practically owns this school. The only ones that outrank him are the seniors. If he's trying to steal your friend, he's as good as gone."

Castiel sighed. It made sense. He and Dean couldn't be more different. While Castiel was more of the sit-outside-and -perform-science-experiments type, Dean was a roll-in-the-mud-for-the-hell-of-it guy. It shouldn't surprise him that people wanted to be friends with Dean.

That didn't make it hurt any less, though, that Dean had gone willingly.

True to Chuck's prediction, Dean didn't come back.

At the end of the school day, Castiel let out a small, shrieking noise as his face was slammed into his locker. A fist collided with his side, causing his ribs to ache with every gasping breath he took.

"Whatever friendship you had with Winchester, it's over." An angry accent spat into his ear. "I see you talking to him again..."

The fist slammed into his ribs again, and suddenly, the pressure holding him up was gone. Castiel crumbled to the floor, clutching his sides and not caring that his books were strewn all over the hallway.

"There you are." He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the floor when his sister's voice broke his dazed state. "Are you okay? Your books have been stepped on..."

He watched mutely as Anna gathered his things before kneeling in front of him. "Castiel? Raphael is having his girlfriend over for supper. It's nearly four. We need to get home."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to nod. When Castiel got to his feet, his ribs were aching. It still hurt to breathe. Upon arriving home, Castiel went to his room and closed the door, ignoring the concerned looks Gabriel had been giving him since he climbed into the car. He stood in front of the full length mirror hanging on his closet door and pulled his shirt up, inspecting himself with a grimace.

There were bruises already spattering their way up his side. He gingerly pressed his way up the bones, checking for anything worthy of seeing the doctor. There was a click and a soft gasp, and he turned from his reflection to see Gabriel in the doorway.

"Cassy... What happened?" He watched his brother move closer, a look of sickened shock on his face, closing the door. He touched the bruising, looking apologetic when the younger boy hissed in pain.

"Who did this?" Gabriel's voice was malicious, acid dripping from his lips.

"I didn't see his face." Castiel said honestly.

"Where was Dean?" Gabriel pulled his brother's shirt back down, not wanting to see his injuries any longer than necessary.

"Dean and I aren't friends anymore." There was an attempt to keep his voice even, but he wasn't sure how successful he had been. He watched his brother grit his teeth.

"He didn't do this, did he?! Because Raphael and I could make sure he never walks again!"

Castiel flinched at the sound of Gabriel's anger. "No, Gabriel. Dean isn't responsible for hurting me, but if he comes around, send him away."

Castiel frowned. "I don't want to see him."  

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

It was terribly difficult to avoid Dean, especially when he was afraid of offering some sort of explanation. Chuck, bless him, became a permanent fixture to Castiel's side, trying to ease his nerves with vulgar jokes or insulting comments. Approximately two months into their freshman year, Jo Harvelle began sitting with them at lunch. She was just as crass as Chuck, and the way she spoke her mind without much forethought reminded Castiel of Dean. He was still visited at his locker after school by the boy who had hit him that first day. He learned that his name was Crowley, and for every time Dean tried to initiate contact, Castiel was punished.

Dean Winchester was persistent.

It eventually took Jo slamming him into the locker next to Castiel's, one hand on Dean's throat, for him to get the picture not to approach him at school.

The week before Christmas break, Dean knocked on the door to the Novak house. Castiel looked through the peephole, calling for Gabriel.

"He's here again?" His older brother's voice was agitated. "Cassy, why won't you just tell me who's hurting you so I can deal with them?"

"Just make him leave." Castiel pleaded, and Gabriel complied, opening the door while his younger brother hid out of sight.

"Dean-o... Why do you insist on making this difficult? Cassy doesn't want to see you."

"Can't he at least tell me that himself?" Dean's voice was angry, hurt. "Some sort of explanation would be great."

"Don't you dare..." Gabriel's words dropped an octave, and Castiel flinched at how deadly it sounded. "After what's been happening to my brother, you come to my house and act like he owes something to you?" Gabriel clenched his fists, and Castiel tugged his sleeve. "Cassy, why are you acting like he doesn't know?!" Gabriel yanked his arm from his brother's grip.

"Like I don't know what?" Dean growled, obviously confused.

A flash of recognition shone in Gabriel's eyes, and he yanked Castiel into the doorway.

"Because he doesn't."

Castiel looked to Dean, who visibly recoiled from his best friend, whose eye was purpled and swollen shut.

"Who..? I need a name. Right now, Cas."

Castiel looked at his feet. "Crowley."

"Gordon did this? Sent him after you?" He could barely understand Dean's words since he spoke through clenched teeth.

Castiel merely nodded, and Dean turned on his heel, stomping off.

"Dean!" He stopped, turning to face the blue eyed boy. "I'm sorry..." Castiel bit his lip. "About Jo, about not telling you, about-"

"Christ, Cas!" He flinched at Dean's shout. "How am I supposed to protect you if you won't tell me what the hell's going on?!"

And, with that, Dean was gone.

The next day, they walked to school together. Castiel noticed that Dean's knuckles were split open, but he didn't mention it. He also noticed that Gordon and his three henchmen were purpled and sore, but Castiel didn't mention that either. And, when he was pulled into an embrace before his first class, if Dean held him a little tighter than he should have, that was no one's business but theirs.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Dean met Lisa Braeden the first week of senior year. They immediately hit it off and began dating. Castiel hated the idea, grumbling under his breath to Jo one evening as they studied at Chuck's house.

 

"Cas, I don't understand why it bothers you so much. I mean, Lisa's nice enough." Jo looked up from her history book. "Look, I know you've got a thing for him, but he really could have picked someone worse than Lisa. Ruby's been after him since tenth grade."

 

"What are you talking about?" Castiel looked at where she was laying across Chuck's bed. His eyes flitted to Chuck, who was sitting at his desk, typing furiously on his laptop.

 

"I don't have 'a thing' for Dean."

 

Jo laughed outright at that. "Keep telling yourself that, Romeo, but even Chuck can tell that you're head-over-heels for that boy."

 

Chuck raised his hands in mock surrender, shaking his head. "I'm not touching this conversation."

 

Castiel stood from where he was sitting in the floor. He felt his chest tighten and his hands began to shake. Jo couldn't be right, could she? Castiel had never been attracted to anyone, and if he was in love with Dean, he'd know it, right?

 

"I think I should go..."

 

Jo frowned, sitting up on the bed. "Woah, Cas, slow down. It's okay." She said the words soothingly, as if trying to calm him.

 

"How is this okay?" Castiel shook his head frantically. "I mean, I should have known that I feel this way. How could I not know? How could I have been so stupid?"

 

"Cas, sit your ass down. You're not stupid." Chuck stood. "Maybe a little gay, but not stupid."

 

Castiel blanched and Jo shot Chuck a glare. "Not helping, Shurley."

 

"I'm gay?" Castiel spoke incredulously.

 

There was a knock on Chuck's door. Dean and Lisa walked into the already cramped bedroom, and Castiel took in the way his hand held tightly to her waist, possessive almost. It made his stomach roll.

 

"I'm gay." Castiel choked out, shoving past the two of them and all but running out of Chuck's house.

 

×××××

 

"Cas?"

 

Castiel rolled over in his bed, eyeing his clock.

 

"Come in."

 

He pulled his pillow over his head as Dean turned on the light. The past few months had been excruciatingly awkward since he had had his revelation about his friend. They were graduating high school in a few days, though, and both Castiel and Dean had been accepted at the local university.

 

"It's nearly midnight, Dean. What do you want?"

 

The pillow was removed from his face, and Castial squinted, looking up at Dean's tired eyes. He looked scared.

 

"What's wrong?" He sat up, pulling Dean to sit beside him on the bed.

 

"Do you remember when we were in the fourth grade, Cas? You asked me to marry you?"

 

Castiel looked at his hands, feeling his face heat up. "Gabriel has never let me live it down. Of course, I remember."

 

"You told me that you loved me that day. It was the first time someone outside of my family said it to me, and you haven't said it again since."

 

Cas looked up when one of Dean's hands encased his own. His heart started hammered in his chest.

 

"It's implied." He managed, shocked when Dean intertwined their fingers. "Dean, what are you..."

 

"In ninth grade, when you told me what Gordon had done to you, I got physically sick. I threw up three times on my way to Crowley's house. The thought of them, or anyone else, touching you... It sickened me. That was the night I realized how I felt about you."

 

Castiel's eyes went wide. "It... It took me a lot longer..."

 

"I know, Cas. I know. And I don't blame you for that." The sound of Dean's cell phone ringing cut through the room. He sighed, picking it up.

 

"Damn it, Sammy. Give me five minutes?!" He hung up without waiting for a response, throwing his phone on the bed.

 

He grabbed Castiel's face then, and pulled him forward, crushing their lips together with unspoken urgency. He was stunned at first, but a small desperate noise made its way from the back of Castiel's throat, and his lips were moving against Dean's as if this wasn't his first kiss. His fingers threaded into the short, sandy-colored hair in an attempt to bring him closer, letting out something that sounded like a growl when Dean's tongue slid over his bottom lip. Castiel gasped, allowing their tongues to brush each other, shivering as the kiss was deepened. Dean groaned, pushing him back on the bed and climbing on top of him to press him into the mattress, demanding submission that Castiel was happy to give. It was Dean that finally broke away, pressing kisses down Castiel's neck.

 

"I love you, Cas." He whispered against his skin, and Castiel thought his heart might fly out of his chest.

 

"God, how I love you, and I need you to remember that, Cas." He pulled away just enough so that Castiel could look into those familiar green eyes. "I need you to remember that I love you."

 

"What's going on, Dean?" He spoke through labored breaths.

 

Hands were roaming now, skimming along the skin of Castiel's hip bones, up his ribs. He attached his mouth to the blue-eyed boy's collar bone, groaning at the taste. "I need to hear you say it, Cas. Please."

 

And it took Castiel longer to process what Dean wanted than it should have. But, honestly, all he could think about was the way he arched impulsively under his touches, pushing their hips together deliciously.

 

"Dean..." His voice was a wrecked moan as he rolled his hips against him.

 

"Please, Cas."

 

Dean put a hand on his hips to still him. He buried his face into Castiel's neck, and the smaller boy felt warmth hit his skin. He stiffened, struggling to pull away so he could look at his friend, the person he loved. Dean held him close, though, warm tears falling down Castiel's collar bone, sobs wracking his body.

 

"Dean, I love you." Castiel whispered, running a soothing hand through his hair. "I love you, Dean, and I was so scared of loving you because I didn't want to hear you say that you didn't love me, or that you couldn't, or that you shouldn't. But, you love me, Dean. And it's going to be okay, because I love you, too."

 

Dean sniffed, pulling back, and Castiel ran his thumbs underneath his eyes, smoothing out the tears.

 

"Remember this moment. Remember how I love you, Cas." His voice was soft, a barely audible whisper even in the silence of the room. "Promise me that, no matter what happens in the next five seconds, five minutes, five years, remember how I love you. And remember that, in this moment, you love me, too. In fifty years, I'll still love you, Cas. Just like this." Castiel nodded, pulling their lips together.

 

This kiss was different than the first one. There was no desperation, no hurry. This kiss was soft, sweet, and it contained more emotion than Castiel was prepared for.

 

Dean's phone went off again, breaking their perfect moment. He sighed, pressing his forehead to Castiel's.

 

"Stay here tonight." He spoke gently.

 

"I wish I could stay forever, Cas." He pressed a kiss to the smaller boy's forehead as he spoke. "I have to go."

 

"I'll call you tomorrow." Castiel promised, kissing him one more time. "I love you."

 

"I love you, too Cas." Dean bit his lip, standing and moving toward the door. "Remember. Please."

 

"I'd never forget."

 

That night was the last time Castiel Novak would see Dean Winchester, or so he was convinced when he accepted a marriage proposal five years later. True to his word, though, Castiel never forgot.

 

Not for a lack of trying, though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys. 
> 
> Fair warning: After this chapter, things are going to get pretty bad. I apologize in advance.
> 
> Thank you to the readers and commenters following this. (:  
> You guys rock.

Castiel awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up in the bed and jarring the warm body next to him.

 

"Cassy?" The British accent enveloped him, sending a chill down his spine.

 

Balthazar sat up, wrapping his arms around Cas, and it took all of his will power not to shove his husband's hands away.

 

Everything about it felt wrong, to feel himself enclosed in Balthazar's arms while he had just dreamt of Dean.

 

"I'm okay." Castiel lied, snuggling closer to the man in an attempt to appear as if he were telling the truth.

 

"Another nightmare?" Balthazar frowned against his skin, kissing the top of his head. "Tell me."

 

Castiel opened his mouth, replying immediately to the order.

 

"It's always the same. You're with me, but it's so dark that I can't see you. And then, you let me go, and no matter how much I reach for you, you don't come back." The lie was second nature to him now. "And then I sceam for you, but nothing comes out. I'm stuck in this never-ending darkness without you."

 

Sometimes, Castiel felt bad about lying to Balthazar.

 

Not tonight, though. Tonight's lie was strategic, given Balthazar's foul mood earlier. The last thing he needed was for his husband to feel like Castiel didn't love him.

 

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

 

Castiel wept then.

 

Not for Balthazar.

 

For Dean.

 

It had been almost thirteen years since Dean had left him in the middle of the night. The next day, Castiel called as promised, but the number had been disconnected. A trip to the Winchester household merited nothing more than an empty home and a bag of cell phones on the table.

 

Three cell phones. Mary's. Sam's. Dean's.

 

Hanging from the front doorknob was Dean's amulet-- the one he treasured more than any of his other possessions, the one Sam had given him. Castiel hadn't taken the necklace off since, telling Balthazar that Gabriel had given it to him. His brother had been so eager to see him happy that he had played along with the story, confirming that it had been a Christmas present.

 

The first gut-wrenching emotion that overtook him as he stood on the front porch of that empty house was loss. That was quickly followed by confusion, fear, worry, and grief.

 

Heartbreak.

 

He didn't understand why Dean and his family had just disappeared. Had something horrible happened? That had to be the case, right? What other possible reason could he have for leaving behind the person he claimed to love so much? And Castiel had to believe that Dean hadn't lied. He had to believe that Dean still loved him.

 

After the initial shock and grieving period, which lasted about four years, Castiel became angry. He was so stupidly angry at Dean, at himself, and at every single one of his family members and friends who shot him sympathetic looks whenever they saw him. Not a single one of them had any right to feel sorry for him.

 

Things were different after he met Balthazar. The pitying looks turned hopeful, and Castiel found it easy to fall into a routine with the British lawyer even though his mind traveled back to Dean on a daily basis. After dating for a year, when Balthazar proposed, Castiel couldn't come up with an excuse to refuse. The person who owned his heart was never coming back, so why should he be lonely for the rest of his life?

 

The day they got married, Castiel wept for the first time in three years.

 

He wept for Dean.

 

He wept for the life he envisioned that night when Dean was his.

 

He wept because he had no closure.

 

He wept because somewhere, maybe Dean was fighting to get back to him, and now he was wearing a ring to bind him to someone else.

 

He wept because he still had to believe that Dean loved him.

 

And even now, in the circle of Balthazar's arms, Castiel still believed that Dean would come for him.

 

He had to rescue him from this dream-like state he was trapped in.

 

He had to come back.

 

He had to.

 

 

×××××

 

 

They lived in a nice house. It had two stories, three bedrooms, and two and a half baths. The kitchen was spacious, and there was a small office space downstairs that Balthazar used for his work. After Dean had left, Castiel didn't go to college. He would have been happy living with his parents forever, drinking himself into oblivion. Now, he stayed home and kept the house while Balthazar worked.

 

Sometimes, Castiel would find himself sitting in the guest bedroom alone. He would stare at off-white walls and envision all of the different ways he could turn this room into a nursery. Oh, how Castiel wanted a child. The thought of cradling a baby close to his chest made his heart ache with a longing that shocked him.

 

This is where he was when Jo knocked on the front door.

 

Castiel hurried downstairs, jumping the last three steps and opening the door with a grin.

 

"Let's get you outta this house." Jo smiled warmly as he pulled on his coat. "Gabriel's already at The Roadhouse. He's probably had four pieces of pie by now."

 

Castiel chuckled, locking the door behind him as they stepped outside. The two climbed into Jo's dark blue pick-up truck, and the empty house was disappearing in the rear-view mirror.

 

"So..."

 

Jo looked over at him, and Castiel took a moment to admire how pretty she looked. Her blonde curls were pulled into a low ponytail, and though she wore minimal makeup and a T-shirt, she was still breathtaking.

 

"How's your shoulder?"

 

"It's better." Castiel looked at his hands, trying to forget the night he had banged on Adam Milligan's door looking for Jo. "I think today the stitches can come out."

 

"I'll have to look at it." 

 

She frowned, and Castiel felt a surge of pride for her.

 

 

 

Even though Ellen had been pressuring Jo to take over The Roadhouse, the small blonde had graduated nursing school with flying colors.

 

 

"Has he..?" Jo's words interrupted his reverie.

 

"No." Castiel answered honestly. "Usually, after a bad night, he takes a few weeks."

 

They pulled to a stop in front of The Roadhouse, and Jo sighed.

 

"You should tell someone."

 

He opened the door and hopped out of the truck, waiting for her to join him before answering.

 

"I told you, Jo. Who else do I have?"

 

The two gave a wave to Ellen as they made their way to the booth in the back. True to Jo's prediction, Gabriel had a pile of empty plates in front of him.

 

"You couldn't wait ten minutes?" Castiel slid across from him, scooting close to the wall so Jo could join him.

 

He shook his head before catching his brother's dark expression.

 

"What are you...?"

 

He followed Gabriel's eye line, watching as a man approached their table.

 

Castiel frowned, wondering why his brother seemed to hate this newcomer. Jo stiffened beside him, and once the man was standing next to their booth, Castiel looked up, up, up into the face of Sam Winchester.

 

"You've grown." Jo commented, shifting to put a soothing hand on Castiel's thigh.

 

"Cas, can we talk?" Sam ignored the blonde, and Castiel immediately looked down at the table, as if the pattern in the dark mahogany was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

 

His stomach rolled. His head filled with air. He was going to pass out.

 

"Whatever you've gotta say to him, you can say to us, Sammy." Gabriel's voice sounded muffled to Castiel's ears.

 

Sam.

 

Sam Winchester.

 

Dean's Sam.

 

He was here.

 

Standing right in front of the three of them.

 

Did that mean Dean was here, too?

 

"Is he... Here?" Castiel almost didn't recognize his voice.

 

His right hand moved automatically to twist the ring on his left hand. It was a nervous tick, a daily reminder that Dean had left. He saw Sam's eyes flit to his ring, and he cringed internally, looking back at the table.

 

"We saw in the paper that you got married. Congratulations, Cas. Really." There was a pause. "No. Dean's not here. He told me not to come."

 

"Why did you, then?" The heat in Gabriel's voice was unmistakable.

 

"Our mom passed away."

 

Castiel's head snapped up at that, his breath catching in his throat. He noticed how tired Sam looked then, how emotionally drained.

 

"I figured you had a right to know, Cas, since she adored you. I know she meant a lot to you."

 

"I'm so sorry, Sam..." He didn't know what to say beyond that.

 

He wanted to shove Jo into the floor and fling himself into Sam's arms.

 

He wanted to comfort him and cry with him and tell him that things would be okay.

 

He wanted to demand to see Dean.

 

He wanted to demand answers, to finally know why he had been left all those years ago.

 

Instead he shook Sam's hand when it was offered.

 

And when he, Jo, and Gabriel were alone again, he ordered a piece of pie and tried not to think about Dean or Mary. Neither of them asked how Castiel was dealing with this new information, and considering the fact that he didn't know the answer to that question himself, maybe that was for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. Here.
> 
> Have some Dean angst.

Someone was making noise.

 

A lot of noise.

 

Too much noise.

 

Dean rolled over in his bed, confused when the surface he was sleeping on ended abruptly, causing him to crash into the floor with a muffled curse. He sat up, opening groggy eyes to realize that he had been sleeping on his couch, rather than his bed. He felt a sharp pain in his side, throbbing almost as angrily as his head, and he swore when he touched his ribs, hand coming away wet and warm with fresh blood.

 

"What the hell?"

 

He glanced at his torso, frowning with worry when he saw a small pool of red staining his shirt. His eyes then found the empty whiskey bottle he had crushed when he had tumbled from his sleep. Dean lifted the hem of his shirt, examining himself as he got to his feet. He jumped at the sound of someone pounding on the door.

 

That must've been what had awoken him.

 

He stumbled to his front door, groaning as he opened it to look up into the face of his giant little brother.

 

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Dean barely recognized his own voice, his throat sore from whiskey and sleep.

 

"It's Sunday." Sam's eyes zeroed in on the blood on his shirt. "What happened?"

 

"Accident." Dean said honestly, moving into the kitchen and leaving Sam to follow at his own risk.

 

He tugged his shirt off, throwing it into a hamper on the way into the kitchen. He shuffled through cabinets, pulling out a first aid kit and turning the coffee pot on. When he turned, his brother was in the doorway watching him.

 

"What do you want, Sam?"

 

The tall man fidgeted, watching as Dean poured peroxide over a dish cloth and winced, dabbing it over the shallow cut along his ribs. The older man winced, slapping a too-small bandage over the wound and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

 

"I went back to South Dakota on Friday."

 

Dean almost dropped his coffee mug.

 

He almost spit the scalding liquid in Sam's face.

 

He almost choked.

 

"You what?!"

 

The ceramic cup made a protesting noise when Dean slammed it onto the counter.

 

"He had a right to know, Dean. Mom would've wanted-"

 

"No!" Dean cut him off with an angry shout, taking a few calming breaths in the silence before continuing. "Don't you dare tell me what Mom would've wanted for me. Or for Cas."

 

He tried to say the name as if it didn't physically hurt him, as if it didn't feel like he was spitting out the shards of glass scattered across his living room floor.

 

"He asked about you." Sam kept his voice soft, and Dean felt like he was splitting into a million pieces.

 

"Of course, he did." He took a deep breath. "He's probably spent years envisioning creative ways to break my nose."

 

"No, Dean... You didn't see him. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Hell, he looked like a ghost himself- pale and thin and surprised. It wasn't your Cas, Dean. It was disturbing."

 

"My Cas?"

 

The words sent something rolling in Dean's gut, and he lunged for the trash can, sticking his head into the barrel just in time to retch up any remaining sustenance in his stomach. He hit his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning back against the cabinets behind him.

 

"He's not mine, Sam."

 

The freakishly tall man knelt in front of him, bending his legs in an awkward way to get low enough.

 

He offered Dean a slip of paper.

 

"Call Jo."

 

"Sam..." Dean felt his head lull forward of its own volition, sagging in his hands. "I can't see him with someone else. I can't talk to Jo about him being wih someone else. I can't think about it. About him."

 

A sob escaped his lips, the pain barreling through him as if someone had shot acid through his body.

 

As a matter of fact, he'd much prefer acid, if that were an option.

 

"Don't make me go back there."

 

And there it was: It was a confession as much as it was a plea. It was his way of telling Sam that this wasn't his choice anymore.

 

He wouldn't be able to stay away from Cas if his brother even so much as asked him to go back. Hell, Dean wasn't sure he could stay away even if Sammy got up and left him here without saying another word. He ached for Cas in ways that he had tried to ignore for thirteen long years, but his mother had been the initiative behind staying away.

 

Now?

 

Mary Winchester was gone.

 

Dead.

 

Who was going to keep him here now?

 

"Just... Call Jo." Sam blinked at his brother, standing. "And, for God's sake, Dean... Take a shower?"

 

 

×××××××

 

 

Dean stared blankly at the piece of paper in his hands. Almost five hours had passed since Sam had left. Five agonizing hours full of vomiting, showering, thinking, vomiting again, showering again, and stitting dumbly at his kitchen table.

 

He needed to sweep up the glass in the living room. He needed to wash up the piles of dishes in his sink. He needed to start on the mountain of dirty laundry that had collected in the floor of his bedroom. He needed to do a lot of things.

 

Anything but call Jo.

 

Even as he thought the words, he dialed her number, pressing the buttons of his phone a little harder than was necessary. He stopped when he was done dialing, staring at the screen of his phone in deep thought. He would call Jo. He would find out how she was doing. He would not ask about Cas, and he would refuse to talk about it if brought up. And he most certainly wouldn't go back, no matter how many times he was begged.

 

And, oh, how Dean wanted to be begged. Being begged impled that Cas still needed him, still wanted him.

 

He gritted his teeth, pressing the call button.

 

After two rings, he was greeted by a familiar voice. It was deeper and more gravelly than Dean remembered, but there was no mistaking it. He'd know that voice anywhere.

 

"You've reached the phone of Joanna Beth Harvelle. This is Castiel speaking. Jo's hands are a little busy..." The deep chuckle ripped down Dean's spine like lightning. "but I'd be more than happy to relay a message to her if you- Ow, Jo! That fucking hurts! What are you-"

 

There was a sound of a small struggle, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the image of the two fighting over the phone. It goes without saying, though, that the two people fighting in his head looked the same as they did in high school.

 

"Adam, finish up with these stitches." Jo's voice said around a chuckle. "Hello?"

 

And Dean was suddenly overwhelmed with images of a more mature Jo wiping down the counters in Ellen's bar. He wondered if she had finally stood up to her mom about her life, or if she had been stuck in The Roadhouse like she had always suspected.

 

"Hello?" Dean was pulled from his reverie by the annoyance in her voice.

 

"Jo?" He whispered her name, almost praying for her to not hear him.

 

Christ. He shouldn't have called.

 

"Dean?" There was no more talking in the background, and he hoped she had had the sense to walk away from Cas. "Dean, is that you?"

 

"Hey." He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn't betray how emotional he was feeling. "Yeah, Jo. It's me."

 

"I..." She seemed at a loss for words. "I didn't know if you'd call. I- I'm sorry about your mom."

 

"I don't want to talk about it."

 

It wasn't like he could, even if he wanted to. His throat was closing.

 

"Of course."

 

And he missed Jo. He missed how accepting she was, how headstrong, and how she managed to balance the two opposite traits perfectly.

 

"I need to talk to you about Cas, anyway."

 

"I don't want to talk about that, either..." He didn't care how much of his voice sounded like a whine.

 

"Dean Winchester, I swear to God, if you don't pull your head out of your ass..." The threat was empty, but he stayed quiet. "Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and I'll never bother you about him again."

 

Dean glared at the clock.

 

3:57.

 

"I'm timing you."

 

There was a small, relieved exhale.

 

"He's not okay, Dean. He hasn't been for a while. After you left, he spent four years mourning your death. He was convinced that you wouldn't just leave him like that."

 

Dean winced. The words were painful to hear, but he deserved them.

 

"Listen, I don't know why you left, and it's not my place to judge your reasons, but you've gotta come back. He's in something, Dean, and I can't do this by myself."

 

"He's not mine anymore, Jo." It was the second time he had said it out loud, and it still stung so fucking much. "I don't know what you expect me to accomplish here."

 

"He still loves you. He might listen to you."

 

Her voice was desperate, and Dean sighed.

 

"Jo, he's..."

 

"What, Dean? Married? Don't think for one second that I don't fucking know that." He could feel her anger through the phone. "Listen, I don't know what happened in high school. I don't want to know. Keep your shit to yourself, for all I care. What I do know is that the kid was a wreck after you left. You owe this to him. Dean, and you know it. So, just talk to him. Please. If you've ever held any sort of love for him, just..."

 

She took a shaky breath.

 

"Come back?"

 

Dean stared at the clock. 4:02. Damn, the girl was good.

 

He drew in a steadying breath.

 

"I'll call when I get into town."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little longer than the other ones. I had so much that I wanted to say, but it didn't feel right to just cram it in there, so I just ran with it.
> 
> Also, please note the content warnings in the tags.

Castiel was in a fairly good mood when Jo dropped him off at his house that afternoon.

 

That was, until he noticed Balthazar's car in the driveway.

 

Jo gave him a worried expression that he shook off, stepping out of her truck and entering his house. Usually, Balthazar wasn't home until the early evening. Castiel went through every possibile reason for him coming home early, and every single one made his blood run cold with fear.

 

He stood silently in the empty living room before calling out.

 

"Balthazar?"

 

Castiel almost jumped out of his skin when the blonde entered the room. He took a deep breath, the smell of whiskey making his stomach roll as he plastered on a smile. 

 

"This is a surprise. If I had known you'd be here, I would have brought you something to eat."

 

"Something to eat, huh?" His face was hard, emotionless save for the rage behind his glassy eyes. "That where you've been?"

 

Castiel looked down automatically. When he was in one of his moods, eye contact always seemed to escalate things.

 

He nodded quickly. "I have a receipt if you don't-"

 

The hand across Castiel's face surprised him, causing him to let out a small, startled sound. The blow had been hard, harder than usual, and his head felt fuzzy, half of his face hot from the contact. Tears threatened Castiel's eyes, but he held them back as he took a steadying breath and waited for Balthazar to speak.

 

"I came home to spend time with you. Imagine my disappointment when I called for you, and you didn't answer. You were with someone else, weren't you?"

 

Castiel looked up then, shaking his head.

 

"Just Jo. You know I'd never-"

 

He stopped talking when Balthazar advanced, and he felt the chilly press of the wall behind him as he was pinned there.

 

"You bored with me?"

 

There were hands around Castiel's throat, forcing him to look into those fierce blue eyes. He gave a jerky shake of his head, trying to make Balthazar understand. The tears pooling in his eyes had sprung free from where he held them, streaming down his face. Castiel flinched when Balthazar raised his hand, skimming his finger along the reddened side of the smaller man's face to draw patterns in the wetness there.

 

"Did someone else catch your eye, sweetheart? Do you need to be reminded who you belong to?"

 

"Please..." The words came out as a sob. Castiel knew what those words meant. "I know I'm yours. I love you. I don't want anyone else. I-"

 

The words choked off in gasps as the applied pressure to his windpipe strengthened.

 

"You know? Maybe I should mark you up so that everyone else knows. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd get off on everyone knowing that you're mine and that I had to punish you for being such a slut."

 

He removed his hand and Castiel collapsed, gasping breaths that felt like razors scraping the entire way down. There were hands were in his hair then, and the sound of pants being unzipped. Castiel shut his eyes and tried to imagine himelf somewhere else.

 

Anywhere else.

 

He knew better than to fight this, whether or not he wanted it.

 

Castiel unclenched his jaw, opening his mouth obediently, and no matter how much he tried to go to that happy place in his head where it was just him and Dean, Balthazar's fist tugging on his hair kept him grounded in reality.

 

It wasn't always like this, though. The first few years with Balthazar had been as close to perfect as they could get without Dean. When Balthazar's father passed six years ago, though, the man became inconsolable and violent, taking out his grief and frustration on the one person who hadn't left him.

 

Castiel tried to remember that these fits of rage were a side effect of his husband's earth-shattering pain, but as Balthazar held him still, ravaging his throat and spitting insults above him, it was hard not to completely hate him.

 

When it was over, Balthazar spilling hot and bitter down his throat, Castiel kept his eyes down.

 

It wasn't until he heard the upstairs bedroom door shut that he stood on shaky legs, moving robotically into the bathroom. He ignored his battered reflection and stripped, stepping under the warm spray of the shower. He turned the knob, only satisfied when the water was scalding, steam billowing from behind the curtain as he sobbed.

 

There would be finger-shaped bruises around his neck for a week at least.

 

How would he explain this to Gabriel?

 

 

×××××××

 

 

In all honesty, it was perfect. The insistent knocking on his door had turned Balthazar's head from where Castiel lay terrified on the floor.

 

Castiel could see the door from where he was, so imagine his surprise when Balthazar opened the door to reveal Dean Winchester. It took those green eyes approximately three seconds to realize what was happening, and he was on Balthazar.

 

On him.

 

There were punches thrown, and Castiel closed his eyes to it, having seen enough violence to last his lifetime. And then, there was silence. He glanced up, and Dean was pushing him backwards, pressing him into the floor, covering his mouth with hungry kisses. Castiel groaned, pushing up against him and hissing at the contact as their hips slotted together.

 

"Wake up, love."

 

The British accent pulled Castiel from his dream, and he immediately groaned with a sense of loss, hips pressing into the mattress without his consent.

 

He looked to Balthazar with a pout. "I thought we were sleeping in today?"

 

"And I was content with that arrangement, until I cranked my car and it started making this awful noise." Balthazar rubbed a soothing circle on Castiel's lower back.

 

The smaller man practically purred at the feeling of his muscles relaxing, still elated from the heady thought of Dean's hands on him.

 

"You little minx." Balthazar chuckled, and Castiel had to bite back an unhappy groan. It was so hard to imagine someone else when Balthazar kept talking. "Follow me to the garage, and I will reward you accordingly when we get home."

 

"Fine." Castiel rolled over, sitting up and pressing the heel of his hand into his deflating erection. "Let's hurry, though. I haven't gotten off in..." He squinted in thought. "Far too long."

 

"Get up, then." Balthazar grinned. "Out of bed, I mean. No telling how long I'll be without my car. The poor thing sounds like the undercarriage'll fall out at any minute."

 

Castiel rolled out of bed, tugging on a pair of jeans and the first shirt he could find-- a pewter gray button up of Balthazar's. He sighed as he worked his way up the fabric, fastening buttons as he went and making sure to pull Dean's pendant out so that it wasn't hiding under the collar. He slid on a pair of mismatched socks and grabbed his shoes before heading to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and ran a damp hand through his hair, examining himself in the mirror.

 

His fingers ran along his jaw line, and he grimaced. He could use a shave, but there was probably no time for it. The bruise below his left eye had almost disappeared completely, and his bottom lip was no longer split completely open, only marred by a small red scar where the healing process wasn't exactly finished. It could pass for a healing cold sore.

 

After the incident, things had gone as they typically did. Balthazar was angry for a few more hours before he started profusely apologizing and trying to tend to Castiel's wounds. They weren't that bad, really. Nothing had needed Jo's attention. And, in those moments when Balthazar was remorseful and caring, Castiel could almost feel the affection he had once held for the British lawyer. It had never been a feeling as earth-shattering as his love for Dean, but it was a welcome change from the disgust he normally felt.

 

Balthazar was waiting downstairs, a small smile on his face as Castiel hopped down slowly, trying to put his shoes on without tripping.

 

"You look ravishing." He chuckled, holding out his husband's black overcoat so Cas could slip his arms into it.

 

Castiel grinned in response. "Ready?"

 

Balthazar frowned, reaching into the hall closet and fishing out a bright blue scarf. He kept his eyes away from Castiel as he handed it over.

 

The smaller man nodded in acceptance and understanding, agreeing that the faded and yellowed bruises along his throat didn't exactly need to be seen by prying eyes. Once the soft blue fabric was secured around his neck, he reached for Balthazar's hand.

 

It was a gesture of comfort, consolation, and maybe even forgiveness.

 

 

×××××××

 

 

Balthazar was right about his car. It sounded like it was seconds from falling apart. Castiel drove close behind the black BMW, just in case he was needed. The trip across town took more time than usual, Balthazar driving slower than he typically would, for fear of the wheels rolling off of his car.

 

Singer Salvage Yard had also been an auto-repair shop for as long as he could remember. Bobby Singer was a good man despite his overly gruff appearance. Castiel had met him in high school when Mr. Singer started dating Ellen.

 

Now, as he pulled into the yard behind Balthazar, he smiled at the sight of the old man grouching at someone underneath a pickup truck. Castiel parked next to the BMW, climbing out of his Toyota Hybrid and 

smiling when his husband interlaced their fingers. 

 

 

"What the hell kinda racket is that?" Bobby's voice was amused.

 

"Not entirely sure." Balthazar frowned, tugging Castiel closer to the garage. "I'm awfully glad the bloody thing didn't fall apart on my way here."

 

"Damn near sounded like it should've." Bobby kicked lightly at the mechanic still working away under the truck.

 

"Make yourself useful. Pull the man's car in and take a look at it." Bobby looked up then. "Got some coffee inside if you want it, Cas. Looks like you could use it."

 

But Castiel wasn't paying attention; he was too busy watching Dean Winchester roll out from under the old truck.

 

"Hey there." He reached a hand out to Balthazar, who released Castiel' s fingers to return the handshake. "I'm Dean."

 

He didn't even acknowledge that Castiel was standing there.

 

"Cas?" Bobby's hand clapped on his shoulder, startling him. "Let's go get you some coffee."

 

He looked to Balthazar for permission -it was an instinctual thing- and when his husband gave a nod of approval, he allowed Bobby to lead him away, turning his back on both men.

 

He made it halfway across the yard before he broke, slumping against Bobby as sobs wracked through his body. Bobby glanced back, making sure both men were preoccupied before wrapping an arm around him.

 

"Come on, Cas, hold it together. A few more steps. At least make it inside before you lose it."

 

The man practically dragged him up the steps and shoved him inside, slamming the door behind them.

 

Castiel crumpled to the floor, not even noticing when a pair of arms encircled him. He latched onto the comforting contact, allowing whoever it was to pull him closer.

 

Thirteen years of withheld frustration rushed through him, spilling onto his cheeks and leaving hot, wet tracks down his face. Dean was here. He had come back. Guilt and relief flooded through him, overwhelming his senses as he buried his face into the neck of the person holding him.

 

"Shhh..." A soothing hand ran through his hair. "It's okay. You're okay."

 

Castiel stiffened, jerking away from the unfamiliar voice, relieved when the hands willingly let him go. When he looked up, he was staring at a blonde with soft brown eyes. She smiled softly at him.

 

"You okay?" She offered him a box of tissues, but Castiel settled for his coat sleeve.

 

"Who are you?"

 

"Oh." She chuckled, climbing to her feet and offering her hand to help him up. "I'm Jess."

 

He took her hand, getting up and wiping his face again.

 

"Castiel." He sniffed. "Sorry I cried all over you. It's been..." He bit his lip, looking away. "It's been quite a day."

 

"I understand." She gave him a small smile, thumb jerking toward the kitchen. "Coffee?"

 

Castiel nodded gratefully, following her into the kitchen, almost breaking down again at the sight of Sam sitting at the table.

 

"Hey Cas." The smile was cautious, and Castiel watched as Jess kissed the top of his head on the way by, pouring a cup of coffee.

 

"How do you take it?"

 

"Two sugars?" Sam smiled wider now, glancing at Cas.

 

"Black." Castiel amended, causing Sam to raise a brow.

 

Jess chuckled, passing the cup to Cas before ruffling Sam's hair affectionately. His hair had gotten long, ridiculously so, and he wondered why Dean hadn't chopped it off yet. The thought made him wince. And then, he stiffened.

 

Dean was outside.

 

With Balthazar.

 

"I better..." He stopped when Bobby entered the kitchen.

 

"Yeah, you better." He nodded.

 

Castiel watched as Sam stood, approaching him tentatively. And, God, how he'd grown. He was easily six inches taller than Dean. Surprise bit through him as Sam's arms surrounded him, blanketing him in comfort and nostalgia.

 

When Castiel finally pulled away, he sighed. "I've missed you, Sam."

 

The taller man grinned, clapping him on the back. "See you soon, Cas."

 

"It was nice to meet you, Jess."

 

Castiel grinned when she blew him a kiss before he stepped outside. The two were standing side-by-side, looking up at the undercarriage of the elevated car. Dean was chuckling, and Balthazar looked pissed.

 

He hurried toward them, making sure not to spill his coffee.

 

"What's going on?" Castiel tried not to frown when Balthazar grabbed his mug, claiming the coffee wordlessly.

 

"Nothing's wrong with the car, apparently." Balthazar spat, seething.

 

Castiel cringed, fighting the urge to inch toward Dean, who still had yet to acknowledge him.

 

"But... Why was it making that terrible-"

 

"Someone put zip ties on your drive shaft." Dean responded cooly, tossing him the smallest glance. "Practical joke."

 

"...A joke?"

 

"Yeah, Cas. A joke."

 

Castiel flinched at the sound of his name falling from Dean's lips.

 

"I'm sorry." Balthazar blinked. "Do you two know each other?"

 

"Not anymore." Dean replied, pulling a knife from his pocket and slicing through the ties on the drive shaft.

 

A slice of anger shot through Castiel. Really, Dean had no right to be acting like this. If anything, Castiel deserved an explanation, not the silent treatment.

 

"We knew each other in high school." He clarified, taking his husband's hand. "We weren't really friends."

 

He could tell Balthazar was getting angry. That was Dean's fault, too. If he had kept his mouth shut, there wouldn't be an issue. If Dean had stayed thirteen years ago, he wouldn't have married Balthazar. The sound of the car lowering filled the garage.

 

"Nah, I guess we really weren't." Dean's cocky grin made Castiel's heart rate increase. "Especially after fourth grade. This lunatic proposed to me. We were happily engaged until senior year."

 

Castiel paled, mouth hanging open. He didn't realize there were tears in his eyes until they spilled over onto his cheeks.

 

"I... I..."

 

There was a flash of something in Dean's eyes.

 

Satisfaction?

 

Regret?

 

It was difficult to tell because his focus was on Balthazar's death grip on his hand.

 

"It's okay, Cassy." The British voice took on that soothing edge that ran a chill up his spine as he released the smaller man's hand. "You go on home, and I'll finish up here."

 

Castiel's stomach rolled, but he knew better than to argue.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel flinched at the sound of pounding on the door.

 

"It's unlocked."

 

He didn't recognize his voice, nor did he care who was at the door.

 

If it was a murderer or a robber. He may as well have already been dead. Of course, he wouldn't be so lucky.

 

He tried not to notice the broken expression on Jo's face as she walked into the living room to see him sprawled out on the couch naked, beaten, and covered in Balthazar's bodily fluids.

 

"Adam." And he hadn't even noticed that Jo wasn't alone until she acknowledged the other person in the room. 

 

"There's a blanket in the closet at the end of the hall. Put him in the truck carefully, and I'll grab him some clothes."

 

He didn't remember the ride to Adam's house. Maybe he had blacked out, but there was no way for him to be sure. The next thing Castiel knew, though, he was sitting on his friend's bed, watching Jo take inventory of his battle scars. The blanket that had been wrapped around him was pooled around his waist, and he was still crying.

 

"Cas, I need you to tell me what happened."

 

What happened.

 

She wanted to know what happened. But how was Castiel supposed to tell her that Dean Winchester had been the cause of this? Sure, he hadn't physically touched him, but he was the driving reason behind Balthazar's rage yesterday.

 

"Dean's back. He... He made Balthazar so angry. I tried to... To calm him down, to..." His voice was lost to another sob.

 

"That son of a bitch. This is all my fault." She was quiet while she worked.

 

When she finished, she sat back on her heels to look up at him.

 

"Okay. You have twelve stitches along your rib cage. Two ribs are broken, but I wrapped them up tight enough that they should heal within a few weeks. I'll need to change that bandage every day. There were burns on your elbows and knees, so I wrapped them up, too."

 

"Carpet." Castiel looked at his bruise-spattered body with a grimace.

 

Jo took a deep breath. "I want you to talk to someone. A lawyer. Please?"

 

"Jo, I can't." He kept his gaze down.

 

"It's escalating, Cas. He's going to kill you." Her eyes were watering.

 

"Maybe that's what I want." The words were low, almost inaudible, and Jo stood when she heard them.

 

"You know what? Fuck you." Castiel looked up at her, startled by her reaction. "You think that just because the person you love doesn't love you back, you don't deserve life? That's bullshit, Cas, and you know it. I pulled you back together after high school as much as I could. And now, I'm literally keeping you from falling apart on a weekly basis. Why, Cas? Why would I repeatedly stitch you up and take care of you? Because you're my friend, and I hope you'd do the same for me if it came down to it."

 

"Jo, I... I'm sorry. I don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me, but I-"

 

"Talk to the damn lawyer, Cas. Fifteen minutes. That's how you can repay me."

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

"Hello?" Sam put his phone on speaker so he could continue chopping up the tomatoes for his hamburger.

 

"Freakishly tall Winchester." Jo's voice was quiet despite the jab. "I need you."

 

"Um." Sam looked at Dean and Jess' s expectant expressions before answering. "I'm engaged, Jo. You know this."

 

"Okay. You're disgusting." She laughed, "It's a matter of needing a lawyer. Not your oversized body." Sam relaxed, watching his brother and fiancee tuck back into their food.

 

That could have been awkward.

 

"Sure. What did you do?" He placed a slice of tomato on his burger, squirting it with mustard.

 

"It's Cas."

 

Sam looked up at Dean, who had frozen mid-bite.

 

"What about him?" Sam kept his voice calm.

 

"Listen, Sam, I made a mistake of thinking your dick of a brother could do some good in this situation." Jo sounded angry. Beyond angry, actually.

 

Sam picked up the phone, turning the speaker off and holding it to his ear. Dean stood in protest, moving closer.

 

"What happened, Jo? " Sam held a hand up, stopping Dean's advance once his brother was within a few feet of him.

 

"I just... I need you to get here, Sam. I'm at a loss for what to do next, and leave your asshole brother where he is." Her voice was breaking, and Sam couldn't tell if it was from anger or panic.

 

"Okay, Jo. Calm down. I'm on my way." He hung up and sighed, looking to Dean and Jess. "I've gotta go."

 

"I'll drive." Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala from the counter.

 

"Dean." Sam shook his head. "He doesn't want you there. And, I don't know what kind of shit you pulled yesterday, but I'm pretty sure Jo is going to kill you."

 

"Okay, yeah." Dean gritted his teeth, and Sam could see a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I was a dick, okay? And maybe that's why I need to see him. I don't know how I was expecting myself to react to seeing him all over someone else, but I overreacted. I need to apologize, but he didn't need to be a bitch about it."

 

"Dean-"

 

"No, Sam. He acted like we weren't even friends in high school. He actually said we weren't really friends." Dean carded a hand through his hair, sighing.

 

"You didn't see him, Dean. " Jess spoke up. "Bobby had to practically carry him inside because he was hurting so badly after just seeing you. You two can talk yesterday out, and you can apologize, but he's still hurting right now. Give him time."

 

And Sam can't help the swelling of pride and devotion in his chest when her eyes meet his.

 

"Fine." Dean conceded. "Fine, I'll stay." He tossed Sam the keys to the Impala. "But if you so much as think about-"

 

"Yeah, yeah." Sam grimaced. "Don't scratch the car. Bring back pie. I get it."

 

It didn't take long for Sam and Jess to pull into Adam's driveway.

 

Jo was waiting on the porch, an impatient look on her face. "Took you long enough."

 

"I had to convince Dean to stay behind." Sam frowned. "Would you tell me what's going on?"

 

"I'm hoping he'll ask about the 'D' word, but I would be happy with some counseling at this point."

 

Sam watched as she scrubbed at her eyes. They were red and puffy, and her hands were shaking. She looked exhausted. It was an odd sight, considering he had never known Jo Harvelle to be anything but solid.

 

"The 'D' word?" Jess spoke up, pushing a flyaway lock of Jo's hair into place.

 

The action puzzled Sam, but he watched as Jo's tension practically deflated.

 

Must be a girl thing.

 

"Divorce." Was the reply, but it didn't come from Jo. Adam appeared in the doorway, pulling Jo into his arms. He pressed his face into her blonde curls and inhaled, kissing he top of her head. "Let me show Sam to the bedroom, and I'll meet you two in the kitchen, okay? I made some lemonade this morning. It's in the fridge."

 

Jo nodded, pulling away and nodding for Jess to follow into the kitchen, leaving Sam and Adam on the porch.

 

"You should be prepared, man. The past six years have been pretty rough on him, but it's never been this bad. He's been tended to and sponged off. Jo didn't want him in the shower until antibiotic ointment was on long enough to soothe the pain."

 

"What are you-?" Sam bit his lip, puzzle pieces falling into place. His stomach fell into his feet, and he thought he might throw up. "He's being abused."

 

Adam sighed with a nod, leading him into the bedroom. Castiel was on the bed, wrapped in a blanket. His eyes widened when they fell on Sam.

 

"Sam? What are you... I mean..." He pulled the blanket tighter around him, burying his face into the blanket to hide any imperfections.

 

And, God, Sam wanted to cry.

 

"Jo said I'd be talking to a lawyer, she-" A sob ripped from Castiel' s shrunken form, and Sam could see him shaking. "Please tell me Dean isn't here."

 

"He's not." Sam sat gingerly at the foot of the bed. "And I can't tell him anything you tell me. It would be a breach of client confidentiality."

 

Castiel looked up at him then, resigned surrender in his blue eyes.

 

"Tell me what you want to know."

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

Dean closed his eyes, grumbling to himself. He picked up the picture of his mother on his bedside table, sighing at the sight of her smile. Oh, how he missed her. He put the picture back down.

 

"I don't know, mom." He stood from his bed, pacing as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was kind of an ass, and it makes sense that he won't want to see me. But, the thing is, I love him, mom. I love him, and I screwed up, and now he's fucking married, and I... I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here when I should be saying all of this shit to him..."

 

He pressed the heel of his palm into his eye, pushing until he saw colors in the blackness behind his eyelid. Sam had been gone for- he glanced at the clock- four hours now, and Dean had been helplessly restless for approximately three of those hours. And forty minutes. Maybe longer.

 

He was pulling on his jacket when the front door opened.

 

"Going somewhere?" Jess eyed him warily.

 

"I just..." Dean ran a hand along the back of his neck. "Can I go now? To see him?"

 

There was a flicker of something on her face that Dean couldn't place.

 

"He needs more time."

 

"More time? He's had thirteen years of time! How much more could he need?" He pulled his boots on and stood. "I have to see him."

 

"Dean, no." Jess grabbed his arm, stilling him. He turned to look at her, ice in his gaze.

 

Yanking his arm away, he growled. "Good luck stopping me."

 

He turned his back to her, but the second his hand hit the doorknob, he was being jerked back. Dean yelped, hissing with pain as he was shoved into the counter, face down. One of Jess' s hands was attached to his ear, practically ripping it off, and the other had his arm twisted behind his back.

 

"Listen here, Winchester. Cas asked specifically for you to stay away. I had to swear I wouldn't let you see him. And, honestly, the guy's had a pretty shitty day, and I don't want to make it worse." She yanked on his ear, causing him to squeak. "So, put your big-girl panties on and give the man some time."

 

"Jeez, Jess, okay!" Dean stopped struggling. "Okay. Just let me go."

 

And, honestly, in another situation, he would have been overwhelmed with fondness for the girl. Sammy sure lucked out with her. Instead of warmth, though, he glared at her.

 

"Look, I understand, okay?" Jess released him. "You love him. And I believe with everything I am that, after his mess is over, you two can have your talk and repair whatever it is you had all that time ago. But, until then, you have to realize that he's got more pressing issues."

 

"Tell me, then."

 

"I can't, Dean. It's not my place." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "And Sam actually isn't allowed, so don't ask him."

 

"Fine." Dean sat back down. "I'd rather hear it from Cas, anyway."

 

He looked up at her before turning to look at the wall, biting his lip.

 

"Did you... Did you see him?"

 

It was Jess's turn to look away, taking in a shaky breath.

 

She was just about to speak when Sam came inside. Dean didn't speak as he looked his brother over. His face was haggard, the skin under his bloodshot eyes rubbed raw. His hair was in disarray, no doubt from him running his hands through it the way he usually did whenever he became emotional.

 

"Sammy?"

 

"Don't, Dean. I can't tell you anything." He leaned against the kitchen counter across from his brother, a defeated look on his face.

 

"I know, I just... When can I see him?"

 

And Dean didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. He exhaled, feeling the muscles in his jaw tighten as he gritted his teeth.

 

"I don't know, Dean." Sam kept his gaze on the floor. "It's probably not a good idea for you to see him again."

 

It took a moment for him to process what Sammy was saying.

 

"Like... Ever? You're saying I can't see him again ever?!" The pain coursing through him at the thought was no less severe than it had been thirteen years ago. "So you're- I mean, why would he- I just..."

 

"Sam." Jess spoke up. "I thought that after everything was settled, Dean and Castiel could finally get a chance to talk."

 

"Well, that won't be happening, Jess, because our conversation with Cas went in one ear and out the other. He made that perfectly clear when he called Balthazar to come and get him from Jo's." Sam snapped, but Dean could tell that he wasn't angry at Jess; he was angry at the situation, whatever that might be.

 

She was silent for a moment. "The three of you just let him-"

 

"Of course not, Jess." Sam's voice had lost its heat and was now a tired mumble. "The three of us wanted nothing more than to knock the smug bastard down a few pegs. I practically salivated at the thought of intervening. Hell, Adam did intervene. It didn't matter, though, because Castiel is a grown man, and it was his call. Not ours."

 

"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?!" Dean had both hands in his own hair, tugging just above his ears in frustration.

 

Jess put her head down on the table, reeling from whatever cryptic shit Sam had told her, so Dean trained his eye on his brother, who sighed deeply.

 

"We'll go see Jo tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was almost relieved when Jo showed up less than an hour later.

 

Almost.

 

Her eyes were red and puffy, and Dean knew better than to point out that her nose was slightly running. So, he moved aside, allowing her to come in.

 

"Jo?" He couldn't mask his worry. "Everything okay?"

 

"No, Dean, it's not fucking okay." She rounded on him, eyes sharp. "I don't know what I was thinking, asking you to come back here. It's only made things worse."

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off when Sam spoke up.

 

"Jo."

 

She turned her angry glare on the taller Winchester, waiting for him to speak.

 

"We need to tell him what's going on. Or take him to Cas."

 

"Like hell!" Her face was a mixture of incredulity and anger. "I don't even think they should be around each other at all."

 

"Jo, if you had clued me in on what's been going on before tonight, we would have approached the entire situation differently." Sam sighed. "I get that you're angry. Hell, I'm pissed. You didn't hear him talk, though. I honestly think that Dean's the only one who could knock some sense into him."

 

Dean watched as Jo paled at Sam's wording.

 

"Figuratively, of course." Sam amended.

 

And then, Dean's stomach rolled. Figuratively? This situation was getting all too familiar.

 

"Sammy." Dean's jaw was clenched when he looked at his brother. "Don't tell me..."

 

Sam's face was enough of a confirmation for him. Dean couldn't stop the images of that pompous English prick laying his hands on Cas, hurting him. He thought back to their exchange at Bobby's, the way Cas had flinched when Balthazar seethed at Dean.

 

Oh God.

 

He'd only made it worse.

 

The wave of nausea attacked him, rolling through his body at such a speed that he barely had enough time to turn around and empty his stomach into the sink.

 

"Dean?!" Jo's panicked voice met his ears as he slumped over the counter, trying to catch his breath.

 

"I have to go get him." He choked out, pounding a fist onto the counter before standing straight, looking for his jacket.

 

"You're in no condition to do anything tonight." Sam protested.

 

"So, what? I'm supposed to relax while Cas takes everything that bastard has to dole out?"

 

"This situation has to be handled delicately."

 

Dean gritted his teeth, imagining how much it would satisfy him to offer Sam a punch to the face.

 

"Tomorrow, Dean." Jo promised, soothingly. "You can come with me tomorrow when I go to change his bandages."

 

"Bandages..." Dean whispered the word, turning and shoving his head into the sink again.

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

"I don't want you to leave this house again." The words made Castiel's stomach roll. "I'm willing to overlook the fact that you weren't home when I got here yesterday, but you have to promise me you won't leave again. Your friends are despicable."

 

Castiel merely nodded, remembering the betrayed look on Jo's face when he left with Balthazar. He doubted any of his 'friends' would want to see him again anyway. He focused on his husband, who was still babbling half coherently in his sleepy state, pulling Castiel closer by his waist in the bed. The smaller man tried not to flinch away from the touch. His ribs were searing, but he couldn't afford to make Balthazar angry again.

 

"I'm glad you called me and came home, Cassy."

 

The words hurt almost as much as the throbbing in his body. Instead of answering, Castiel closed his eyes. His breathing was shallow; too much air in his lungs caused something akin to agony in his sides.

 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his mind off of the hint of respite in Dean's voice when he threw fuel onto Balthazar's fire. Castiel knew that there was no way Dean had any idea that Balthazar would react the way he did- accusations of Castiel putting the zip ties on his car just to see his boyfriend, to make a fool out of his husband. The idea was preposterous, of course, and when Castiel tried to explain that, Balthazar only became more livid.

 

He tried to push the image of Sam's look of sympathy, eyes purposely avoiding the splotches of his skin and hair that were still sticky with one of the many ways Balthazar had chosen to mark him. He tried to forget the way Adam had gotten between him and Balthazar, threatening to beat him within an inch of life if he didn't leave. He tried to forget that people cared about him, loved him even.

 

It shouldn't be too hard for them to forget him, either.

 

"I love you." Balthazar murmured, nuzzling his face into Castiel's neck, and it took all of his willpower not to jerk away from him.

 

But he didn't pull away, though, because a heartbreaking thought rushed through him: Balthazar was probably the only person in the world who would never give up on him.

 

Eventually, Jo and Adam will tire of his empty promises to leave. Only one of his family members spoke to him regularly, and Gabriel was far too busy to notice the way things had crumbled in the past few years.

 

And Dean?

 

Well, it was painfully obvious that Dean had given up on him a long time ago.

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

Castiel was sitting on the bed in the guest bedroom, envisioning baby animals painted on the walls. A small giraffe next to a light green crib, a tiny pink elephant with a purple flower tucked behind one floppy ear. As painful as it was to picture a small child living in a home so broken, Castiel found that his imagination of the scenario made him happy. He would never bring a child into a relationship so destructive, but he figured there would be no harm in imagining something that could have been perfect.

 

"Cas?" Jo's voice echoed up the stairs, pulling him back into the reality of his aching body.

 

He stood, following the hallway to find Jo at the top of the stairs. "What are you doing here? Balthazar said-"

 

"I already talked to him. Calm down." She sighed.

 

"What did you say?" He bit his lip, praying she hadn't done anything to upset him.

 

"I simply explained that, unless he felt like telling a hospital staff why your abused body is riddled with infection, I needed to change your bandages." She shrugged. "He said I can let myself in."

 

She dangled Balthazar's key as proof of her story.

 

"Okay..." He sighed, looking down at his shoes. "Jo, I'm sorry about yesterday."

 

"Why did you go with him, Cas?" He could hear betrayal in her voice underneath the concern there. "I could have kept you safe. With Adam and Sam there. And Dean..."

 

"Dean doesn't care about me anymore, Jo." He said the words slowly, his throat tightening. "He made that perfectly clear."

 

"Cas, you and I both know that can't be true. If he didn't care, why did he come back?" She said the words softly.

 

"I don't know, but I wish he had stayed wherever the hell he was." Castiel grumbled in reply. "I don't know why I ever thought that my life would completely turn around if he ever came back." He grabbed Jo's sleeve and tugged her down the stairs beside him. "Honestly, he'd probably take one look at me like this, and run away again." He bit his bottom lip, turning once he hit the bottom of the steps.

 

"Wouldn't be so sure about that."

 

Castiel jumped at the sound of a new voice, turning to look down the hallway where Dean Winchester leaned against the door frame into the kitchen. He saw the man pale at the sight of him, broken and bruised, and Castiel immediately wrapped his arms around himself, looking down in an attempt to hide as much as possible. He heard Dean take a deep breath, and he watched Jo's shoes as she edged into the living room.

 

"Cas, look at me." Dean's voice was raw, wrecked.

 

"I told her specifically that I didn't want to see you. You can't be here. You can't see me like this. You-"

 

He stopped talking when fingers touched his face. Castiel flinched, but didn't pull away. There were tears gathering in his eyes and he willed them away, feeling too vulnerable already.

 

"Please..." Dean inched closer. "Look at me."

 

And he did.

 

Castiel lifted his chin, meeting Dean's gaze and ignoring the threat of his weakness spilling over his eyes and down his face.

 

"Christ, Cas..." The words were thick with emotions that Castiel couldn't name.

 

Regret?

 

Anger?

 

Pity?

 

"I'm sorry about your mother, Dean." It was the only thing he could think of to say.

 

"We'll talk about it, Cas. All of it. I promise." Dean offered him a small smile, pulling his hand away, and Castiel ached for his touch to return.

 

"What are you doing here? In my house?"

 

"I'm getting you out of here."

 

The words chilled Castiel. "I can't."

 

And really, what promise did he have that Dean would stay after this? How could he be sure that he wouldn't run off again and leave him to the hands of Balthazar?

 

"You're joking, right?" Dean spoke lowly. "Cas, you can't stay here. Your face-"

 

"My face?" A burst of surprised laughter escaped his lips. "My face? Dean, my face was bruised worse than this last week. Two months ago, he broke my nose, which in turn, blackened both of my eyes. You weren't on my doorstep two months ago begging to save me, so why is it such a big deal now?"

 

And yeah, it was a low blow, but Castiel needed to know that this was real, that Dean wasn't going to leave him again.

 

"Cas, I didn't know." Dean looked over his head, refusing to meet his gaze.

 

"Because you weren't here!" He couldn't have held back the words if he had tried. "You just... You just left." The tears that he had managed to hold in earlier were coming back for revenge, but Castiel didn't care. "You made me believe that I was capable of being happy, and ten minutes later, you were gone. I thought something terrible had happened, because there was no other excuse for what you did, Dean. You don't offer someone a future with you the night before you leave!" Dean stepped forward, pulling Castiel against him, but the smaller man shoved him away. "How am I supposed to go with you now when the threat of losing you again is so high? How is this time any different than the last time?"

 

Dean pulled him to his chest again, careful of his aching ribs, and Castiel was too tired to push him off.

 

"I'm not going anywhere without you." Dean spoke into Castiel's hair. "You promised you'd remember, and I know that you don't owe me a damn thing, but if you kept that promise, then come with me. No one will ever touch you again."

 

"I tried to forget, Dean." Castiel knew his voice was wrecked, but he didn't care. Here, in the circle of Dean's arms, he felt safe, and it had been so long since he'd felt any type of security. He inhaled, letting out a shaky breath at the discovery that Dean smelled the exact same as he had thirteen years ago. "I wanted to forget, but I couldn't. You wouldn't let me."

 

"Cas..." He could feel Dean burying his face into his hair with the same precise awareness as he could sense the reget radiating from him.

 

Castiel pulled away, scrubbing a hand over his face and searching for the appropriate words for this situation. After a painfully awkward silence, he found nothing, only speaking up when Jo reappeared in the doorway.

 

"Let me grab my coat."

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

The ride across town was silent. Castiel sat between Jo and Dean in the cab of the blue pickup truck, succeeding in avoiding both gazes that landed on him frequently. It turned out that Dean was renting a house on the outskirts of the small town. Castiel didn't speak when the man climbed out of the truck, not even sparing a glance his way. He scooted closer to Jo on the seat, sighing as his head fell on her shoulder.

 

"Forgive me for this." She whispered, carding her fingers through his hair. He was curious, yes, but he waited for her to finish. "I called Dean. I'm the reason he came back. I have no idea why he left, but after seeing that you got married, he stayed away. I figured that, if anyone could pry Balthazar's hands off of you, it was the person you've loved practically your entire life."

 

Castiel frowned. "How long has he known about...?"

 

"A few hours." Jo replied. "He didn't know what he was doing when he provoked Balthazar. And, that is something else I should apologize for..."

 

Castiel pulled away and looked at her. "You put the zip ties of his drive shaft."

 

She was quiet for a moment, allowing him to process the information.

 

"He hasn't had enough of a chance to think about all of this, Cas. He probably hasn't even figured out that his attitude towards Balthazar has contributed to all of this. You know more than anyone that Dean is driven by emotions. You have to keep him from doing something stupid. If he goes after Balthazar, then Sam won't be able to represent you because it'd be a conflict of interest."

 

The words sent Castiel' s insides into a frenzy. He had a good idea where this conversation was headed, but he tried to ignore that possibility.

 

"Jo, what are you-"

 

"You have to understand, Cas. I love you- you're like my brother, and seeing you hurt is nothing less than agonizing for me. After yesterday, I have to make sure that you don't go back to him."

 

"What-"

 

"Are you coming?" Dean materialized at the door again, looking expectantly at him.

 

"Jo? You want me to... Stay here? With Dean?" He let out a burst of dry laughter. "Balthazar would-"

 

"That fucker's got no idea where to find me." Dean growled, and when Castiel threw a pleading look to Jo, she was smirking.

 

"You're in capable hands, Cas. Get the hell out of my truck."

 

He obeyed, watching as Dean pulled what few bags he had from the bed of the truck, giving Jo a wink as he passed by Castiel and strode inside.

 

"This isn't a good idea." Cas hissed as soon as Dean was out of earshot.

 

"It's the best we've got right now." She shrugged, putting the truck in reverse and sighing. "Give him a chance, Cas. The worst thing that could happen right now is you getting the answers you've wanted for thirteen years."

 

"Fine." Castiel grumbled, waving awkwardly as she pulled out of the driveway and disappeared.

 

He turned to face the small house, noting that the front window was busted.

 

"Cas?" Dean popped his head outside, and Castiel could see the weariness in his expression. "Are you hungry?"

 

"Actually," He moved past Dean and into the house. "I can't remember the last time I slept more than three hours at a time. If you don't mind, I'd like to get some rest."

 

Even as he spoke the words, Castiel could feel his body almost shutting down around him. He was so unbelievably exhausted.

 

"Understandable." Dean nodded, pointing down the narrow hallway. "First door on the left's yours. I'm right across the hall."

 

"Where're Sam and Jess?" Castiel looked at Dean, wondering if he would ever get used to the idea that he was here.

 

"Sammy had to get back to Kansas. His job doesn't offer unlimited vacations." Dean rubbed at the back of his neck the way he always had done whenever he was nervous. "Jess went with him, of course."

 

"Oh." Cas turned, heading down the hallway, trying to process the fact that he was pretty much trapped here in this house with Dean Winchester.

 

"If you need anything, Cas... You know where to find me." Dean's voice followed him down the hallway, and Castiel stopped walking, turning to see that he was being followed. "

 

I'm glad you're here." Arms surrounded him again, and he went blindly into it.

 

"Tonight, Dean." His voice was muffled against a broad shoulder. "I have a lot of questions, but I am so tired."

 

"Tonight, then." Dean nodded, pulling away, and Castiel tried not to feel lost when the contact was gone.

 

He watched as Dean disappeared into his room, and Castiel slipped into the bedroom across the hall, keeping his mind from wandering the few feet between bedrooms. He glanced around the small room, noting that it was not as spectacular as the house he had been residing in for the past few years. This room, though, and this ramshackle house with the broken front window and scuffed, unfinished hardwood floors, exuded safety in a way that was overwhelmingly simple for Castiel.

 

The bed was covered in a floral quilt that he recognized as something Mary had once kept thrown over the back of her couch. He collapsed on the bed and pulled the pillow close, aching weariness wracking his entire body. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled under.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you lovely people... Here is your chapter for the week.
> 
> Also, here is Dean's explanation for leaving.

Castiel woke up in a panic. His breaths were coming in short pants, and he could feel fingers pressed to his throat. He couldn't breathe. He opened his eyes, trying to get a bearing on his surroundings, but found himself disoriented. Castiel sat up, clawing at his neck to find nothing there but the pendant he always wore.

 

He took a deep breath, burying his face into Mary's quilt as he remembered just exactly where he was. He had left Balthazar, and he would never be hurt again. He was with Dean.

 

Dean was here. He had come back.

 

Castiel stood, stretching as much as he could without causing pain in his ribs. He scrubbed at his eyes, taking shaky steps toward the door.

 

It was still daylight out, so he was surprised to find Dean at the kitchen table pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a near-empty bottle.

 

"Cas?"

 

The smell was overwhelming and familiar, something that caused Castiel to take a step backward and drop his gaze. He watched Dean's shoes scuffle toward him, and he recoiled, resisting the urge to curl in on himself when he felt a wall against his back. This was familiar. It was expected. How could Castiel have thought that he'd be able to escape so easily?

 

It took him a while to notice that Dean had stopped moving. He opened his eyes, risking a glance at the other man, confused as to why he was still untouched.

 

"Cas..." Dean's expression was a mixture of fear and hurt. "I'm not..." But he didn't finish his statement. Instead, Dean turned and downed his glass of whiskey before sighing. "You weren't even asleep three hours."

 

"Bad dream." Castiel stayed pressed against the wall. He felt like an idiot. Dean wasn't Balthazar. Dean wouldn't hurt him. He felt like he should apologize, but he had no idea where to begin.

 

"Hungry?" Dean had moved to the refrigerator. "Jess made a lasagna before she left this morning. It'll take maybe ten minutes to heat up."

 

"I..." Castiel blinked, nodding. "That sounds lovely."

 

"Listen, Cas, I..." Dean pulled the pan from the fridge as he spoke, slipping it into the oven and setting the temperature. "I know it's like, a reflexive thing, but you don't have to worry about..." He shut the oven door and scrubbed a hand over his face, keeping his back to Cas.

 

"I know, Dean. I'm sorry." He kept his voice low.

 

"Don't." Castiel flinched, but he knew Dean's anger wasn't directed at him. "Don't apologize to me. This isn't your fault. You should never have been conditioned to think like that, Cas. I should've been here. I should've kept you safe."

 

"Dean..." He didn't know how to make this better, how to console someone who was just as broken as he was.

 

So, Castiel stepped away from the wall, keeping an eye on the tense muscles of Dean's back. He placed a wary hand on the other man's shoulder, watching with slight relief as the muscles relaxed underneath his touch.

 

"You know what I realized while you were sleeping?" Dean's voice was raw with an emotion that Castiel couldn't pick out. "I triggered him, didn't I? He hit you because of me?"

 

Castiel rubbed his thumb along the soft fabric of Dean's shirt, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Dean, it's-"

 

"Don't tell me it's okay, Cas." The words were a whisper, barely audible. "I want to kill him. I want to hold him down and make him regret ever laying a hand on you. You're the only thing keeping me grounded right now, Cas, and I know that's a hell of a lot more than I deserve from you, so please-" Dean took a deep breath, and Castiel could feel him shaking underneath his hand. "Don't pretend that any of this is okay."

 

The timer went off, and Cas pulled his hand away, allowing Dean to cross the kitchen and fish two pot holders from a drawer. Castiel sat at the table, watching as the lasagna was cut and placed on two plates. His gaze met Dean's as the other man sat across from him, setting the plates on the wooden surface of the table.

 

"Okay." Dean stabbed Castiel's food with a fork, scooting the dish closer. He took a breath, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "Let's talk."

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

"So..." Castiel's voice was soft, and Dean could feel the blue eyes on him, searching for answers he had no choice but to give.

 

"Where are you living now? I can't imagine you being too far from Sam." The question caught Dean off guard. He was expecting to get right down to the hard part.

 

"Kansas." He answered quietly. "Lawrence. Sammy's got himself his own practice. Mostly family cases with kids."

 

"You're very proud of him." A tired smile quirked at Cas' s lips, and Dean was shocked by how much he wanted to run his thumb over the small wrinkles that manifested at the corners of the other man's eyes.

 

"Yeah." Dean's smile was genuine. "I always knew he'd grow up to be awesome."

 

"So you said the first time we met." C

 

astiel's returning smile was just as wide, and Dean wanted to bask in it forever.

 

His own grin faltered when his eyes fell on the faded bruises around Cas's neck, traveling lower to the pendant against his chest. Cas followed his gaze and hesitated, holding the metal amulet in his fingers before lifting the string over his head and sliding the necklace across the table towards him.

 

"Cas, I don't want that." Dean's voice betrayed him, cracking slightly as he stared at the other man, looking for understanding in the blue eyes that were avoiding him.

 

Castiel didn't look up, and Dean could see him tighten his fingers on the pendant for a moment. "It's the only thing I had of yours."

 

"Cas... I didn't want to leave you. You know that, right?" Dean slid his hand across the table, barely touching the skin of Castiel's fingers.

 

"Then, why did you?" His voice was cold, but he didn't pull his hand away, and Dean counted that as a small victory. His own fingers were tingling from the contact.

 

"My dad." Dean said the words slowly, taking a moment of hesitation before sparing a glance to the man he'd broken.

 

"You never talked about him."

 

"Can you blame me?" Dean sighed, pulling his hand away and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "It took me a while to figure out what was happening, you know. Dad would get drunk, and mom would cry." He kept his head in his hands as he spoke, refusing to meet Castiel's gaze. "I was seven by the time I realized that he was hitting her. I begged her to leave-- just grab me and Sammy and get the hell out. She loved him though. I'll never understand why she stayed, Cas, how she could just let it happen repeatedly without breaking."

 

Dean stopped then, hearing Castiel's breathing quicken.

 

"When I was nine, I stood up to him. I remember seeing her hit the floor when he pushed her, and I remember jumping between them. I begged him to stop, asked him why he kept hurting her, and he turned on me."

 

Dean drew a shaky breath.

 

"We left that night. I have no idea how we ended up in Sioux Falls, but I didn't care because it was safe. And then I met you." He looked up then, locking his gaze on those familiar blue eyes. "You were so quiet and odd, but it's like you understood me. You never asked about him more than once, and I loved that about you. And, God, how I fell. I fell fast and hard and with abandon. I would've given anything to stay here with you, but he found us. I have no idea how, and I will always regret leaving you, but it's something I had to do. She needed me. I just... I couldn't leave without telling you the truth of how I felt about you."

 

"Dean..."

 

He tore his eyes away and glared angrily at the table, not wanting to witness the forgiveness in Castiel's stare.

 

"It doesn't matter, though, Cas, because he eventually found her again, and I wasn't there to protect her. I came home, and they were both there, and there was nothing I could do because he had already turned the gun on himself." He watched a tear hit the wood, and he ran his finger through the wetness absentmindedly. "And there I was with no one but Sammy and Jess. It's the worst kind of irony, really. I left you to protect her, and meanwhile you needed protection just as badly as she did. I failed you both."

 

"No, Dean." He was surprised when Castiel' s hand covered his. "What happened to Mary was not your fault. You didn't kill your mother, Dean, your father did."

 

"But what about you? If I had stayed..." He let himself trail off, envisioning what his life could have been like with Castiel. They'd be married by now, and maybe have a child. He could imagine himself happy, waking up to Cas every morning, and Dean longed for it with a force that scared him.

 

"You didn't stay, Dean." The words hurt, and he flinched underneath the sting of them. "And I don't fault you for that now that I know why you left. You've made your amends, and I forgive you. There's no point wasting your time in the past when the future is so bright. You can move on and be happy now."

 

Dean's head snapped up at that, focusing on Cas's somber expression. "Wait. What?" "I said I forgive you."

 

"Move on? You want me to move on?" He was panicking now, and he snatched his hand away. He knew he didn't deserve for Cas to still want him after all this time, but he had never given up hope that they could be happy together. "I-I can't move on, Cas. I don't want to."

 

"Dean, I-" He was cut off by the sound of a sharp knock at the front door.

 

Dean stood immediately, moving between Castiel and the kitchen doorway. "Stay here, Cas."

 

"Are you expecting someone?"

 

"Sam's gone, and Jo or Bobby would've called." Dean faced him for a moment. "Please, stay here. No matter what you hear. If I call for you to run, then run."

 

"Dean, I won't leave without-"

 

"Please." Dean's hands slid up to cradle Castiel's face gently, and he felt the smaller man trembling underneath his fingers.

 

When another knock sounded, he pulled away, leaving the blue-eyed love of his life in the kitchen. When Dean rounded the corner, he locked eyes with four familiar faces through the glass door.

 

"Well, hello there gentlemen." He said the words softly as he opened the door, eyes passing from Gabriel, to Raphael, to Luke, and finally resting on Michael. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 

He watched as Gabriel gritted his teeth.

 

It was Luke who finally spoke. "Is Cassy here?"

 

Dean tensed, narrowing his eyes. "If he is, he's here by choice."

 

"He needs to go home, Dean." Raphael's dark eyes looked at him with distaste.

 

"I understand, you know." Michael finally spoke, crossing his arms. "You two were quite the pair. It's reflexive for you to snatch him up the minute you get back into town. He's moved on, though. He has responsibilities as a husband, and you need to stand down."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Dean roared. "That bastard's not getting anywhere near him again." He locked eyes with Castiel's only blood relative, knowing that if anyone could see sense here, it would be him. "Gabriel?"

 

"Bal's got his flaws, Dean, but Cassy has always been his priority. Can you say the same?" Gabriel all but spat, and Dean felt his head spin. How could Castiel's own brothers simply give him back to that monster? "You left, Dean. You lost your chance at this. You don't get to waltz back into town and expect him to jump ship and run away with you."

 

"How can you be okay with this Gabe?" Dean pleaded for him to understand. It was four against one, and he couldn't let them take Cas away, not if it meant Balthazar getting his hands back on him. "I always thought that you looked at Cas the way I look, at Sammy. You're his brother, for Christ's sake. I can't even imagine letting Sam-"

 

"Dean." Castiel's voice was close behind him, and Dean turned as he made his way down the hall.

 

"I told you I'd handle this."

 

"They don't know, Dean."

 

And yeah, Dean believed him the second he turned around and saw the paled faces of all four brothers when Cas reached his side.

 

"Cassy... Your face..." Gabriel's bottom lip trembled as he reach for his brother. Dean stepped aside reluctantly.

 

"Balthazar?" Luke's eyes were on fire as he assessed the situation, his fists clenched at his sides.

 

Michael and Raphael were practically mirror images of him.

 

"Dean." Michael took a deep breath. "A word?"

 

Dean had no choice but to comply as Raphael and Luke shoved their way inside, joining Gabriel at Castiel's side. He stepped onto the porch with Michael, closing the door behind him.

 

"How long has this been happening?" Michael's voice was shaken, and Dean sighed.

 

"The better part of six years." He ran a hand through his hair, slightly tugging on it in frustration. "I want to kill him, Mike. I want to hear him beg for mercy. I-"

 

"Dean." A hand was on his shoulder, grounding him in reality. "How did he end up here? With you?"

 

"I practically had to beg him to leave. Jo's been trying to get him out for years, but I'm the one he needed to hear it from." He spoke slowly. "Sammy's working on divorce papers as we speak."

 

"We can take him from here, Dean. He'll be safe with us." Michael's voice made Dean's blood run cold. "My brother is in a vulnerable place right now. I'd hate for him to do something he'd regret-- like falling into bed with you. Especially if you're not planning on sticking around this time."

 

"Michael-"

 

"I simply don't want him hurt anymore than he already has been."

 

And how could he argue with that? No matter how much forgiveness Cas threw his way, Dean would always blame himself for this. He was foolish enough to think he could protect his mom, and look what happened. He couldn't let Cas get hurt.

 

"Fine. If he wants to go, then take him." The words tasted foul on his tongue.

 

The two moved inside, finding the brothers in the living room. Castiel was on the couch, curled up in Gabriel's arms. Luke and Raphael were still seething.

 

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Michael thinks you should go stay with him, Cas."

 

"Does he?" Castiel' s eyes fell on his oldest brother.

 

"I do." Michael nodded.

 

"And what do you think, Dean?" Cas looked at him, then, and Dean thought his knees would buckle.

 

"They'll keep you safe." He replied, avoiding those blue eyes.

 

"You're sending me away?"

 

"Of course not. You're welcome to stay here, Cas. More than welcome, really. Michael just thought-"

 

"Then I'm staying."

 

Dean looked the room over. Michael didn't seem in the mood to argue. Luke and Raphael were stewing in their anger at Balthazar and were oblivious to the conversation. Gabriel's arms tightened around Cas, and Dean figured the decision had been made. His eyes fell on Cas, who was curled into his brother and looked so much like the boy he fell in love with in ninth grade, and nodded his acceptance of the decision. Castiel smiled widely at him, and Dean's heart sped as he prayed silently that he would be able to keep him safe.


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

When Castiel's brothers are finally leaving, he's shocked by Dean offering to let Gabriel stay. His brother, though, declined the offer kindly, the first hint all evening of a smile gracing his lips.

 

When the door is shut, Dean turned to face him, slowly letting out a breath. "That went a hell of a lot better than it could have gone." He mused, his green eyes catching Castiel's gaze.

 

"It was kind of you to give Gabe the option to stay. I know he blames himself."

 

"It's an understanding he and I have had since we were little, Cas. He sees you the way I see Sam. If something were to happen to Sammy, I don't think I could... Leave him. No matter who he's with." Dean explained. "But, I gotta ask, Cas... Why didn't you tell them? Why did you stay?"

 

The question reminded Castiel of when Dean had confessed about his mother, of trying to fathom why someone could live in such an unhealthy way. But how was he supposed to answer the question without making Dean feel guilty? The only reason he gave Balthazar a second glance was because he was tired of the sympathy people had pushed on him once Dean left.

 

"It started out as a rebound thing, to be honest." He saw the way Dean sagged under his words, under the implications they held. "He was different when I met him. I was happy, and he was... He was good for me." Castiel took a breath, wringing his hands in his lap where he sat.

 

"What happened six years ago? What flipped him?" Dean was standing very still, leaning casually against the wall across the room.

 

"His father died." Cas spoke gently, looking at his fidgeting hands. He could feel his emotions spiraling inside him, and he realized that he hadn't shed a single tear since he had left his house. "The day of the funeral, actually, is the first time he ever..."

 

And it was like actually being there again, at the overzealous man's funeral, watching as people he'd never met before walked to an open casket to pay their respects. He remembered perfectly the strained muscles in Balthazar's face, trying to hold himself steady underneath so many critical gazes. It was almost too easy for Castiel to stand and pull him from the crowd, ushering him out of sight. Balthazar had curled himself around Cas, pressing him against the closest surface he could find. He had cried. He had screamed. He had lashed out, and when Castiel tried to calm him, the fist that had landed square at his jaw made his breathing stop. It had been the beginning of this nightmare. Castiel felt himself shaking apart.

 

After a long pause, Castiel attempting to seize any fragments of his composure that he still owned, Dean's stomach gave an angry growl. The sound startled him, but he was thankful for the inadvertent subject change nonetheless.

 

"The lasagna. We should probably-"

 

"Cas."

 

And that was it.

 

The sound of his name rolling so easily off of those lips he had dreamt of for so long. It broke him. Castiel covered his face with his hands, ducking his head downward in an attempt to hide the fact that he was crying. It was a vain act, of course, because his entire body was shaking with the force of his sobs. Wave after wave of fear and confusion and relief crashed over him, overwhelming his thought processes as he shakily forced air into his lungs.

 

What if Balthazar came for him? Dean would never let that happen, right? What if he hurt Dean? What if the only reason Dean came back was because Jo begged him to? If that was the case, what was keeping him from leaving again? What is Castiel supposed to do with his life now? He never went to college, and he has no way of supporting himself. He doesn't want to live with Michael for the rest of his life, but is there really any other option? How is he going to be emotionally stable to support himself when Dean leaves again? How is he going to survive without him?

 

The last question struck him harder than the others. It was odd, considering the fact that Dean had just now come back into his life. He felt selfish, greedy for wanting him to drop his life in Kansas and stay here.

 

It wasn't until Castiel felt soothing words being whispered into his hair that he stilled. His breath was still cathing in his throat, and the tears rolling down his cheeks weren't stopping anytime soon, but his trembling calmed. He didn't know when Dean had crossed the room, and he hadn't felt the arms circle his back, rubbing soothing motions along his spine.

 

He had to hold his breath to hear the other man's words. They were nothing but a soft murmur against the top of his skull, and he wondered if Dean even realized that he was speaking.

 

"...won't happen, Cas, I promise. I can't even stand the thought of leaving you again. I can't, and I won't. And I dare that bastard to step within twenty feet of you ever again. Don't worry about him. I'll keep you safe. And I'll help you, Cas. We'll get you in school and I'll die trying to make you happy if that's what it takes. I swear, Cas, I swear..."

 

And that's when the thought struck him.

 

He had been speaking.

 

All of his questions, his fears, had poured from his lips easier than the tears had spilled down his cheeks. It didn't matter, though, because Dean was here. And Dean was staying.

 

Castiel jerked his head upwards, looking toward the sound of that calming voice, needing nothing more than too look into those too-green eyes and see the confirmation of those words. He hadn't been expecting how close Dean was to him, though. He heard the other man's surprised intake of breath, and when it was released, the warm air puffed over his cheeks, luring him into something intoxicatingly inviting. When Castiel finally tore his gaze from Dean's lips and settled on his eyes, he could tell that he was just as speechless about the proximity between them.

 

He lunged forward, throwing his arms around Dean and burying his face into his shoulder. He felt gentle arms pull him closer, and Castiel tilted his head to press his face against the skin on Dean's neck to inhale shakily. He wanted to cry again. He wanted to press his lips against the soft skin and forget that Balthazar even exists. He wanted Dean to hold him and erase the thought of anyone else.

 

So, Castiel nuzzled closer, rubbing his lips against the area just above the collar of Dean's shirt in an action that could have seemed nonchalant. He felt the other man stiffen, and he expected to be pushed awy, but the hands in his hair tightened slightly. He wasn't crying anymore, and there was no reason for Dean to be holding him this closely if it didn't mean that he wanted the same things Castiel wanted.

 

The first press of lips on skin was met by a gasp, a small intake of air on Dean's part, a sound of shock and relief that flooded Castiel with a warmth he hadn't felt in years.

 

His hands fisted tightly into the front of Dean's shirt as he moved his lips up the column of the throat in front of him, his own breath coming out in sighs against the soft skin. He paused when he reached the patch of skin just under his jaw, nosing Dean's head to tilt upward in order to give him more access. When his head fell back, Castiel opened his mouth, tasting the skin around the rough drag of stubble over his lips. Dean groaned, and Castiel greedily shuffled closer, the sound reverberating through him and sending vibrations down to his toes.

 

"Cas..."

 

It was too much. The sound of his name being gasped by a voice he'd burned for, it was so much more than what Castiel was prepared for. So much, and yet, he wanted more. A small noise that Castiel would never admit to escaped his own lips before he could stop it. His hands found their way into Dean's hair, tugging on it sharply to pull his face back down. He stared into wide green eyes for a moment before inching closer, somewhat satisfied by Dean's sharp intake of breath.

 

And then he was being gently pushed away. Dean sat back on his heels with a sigh and Castiel sat frozen, a protest on the tip of his tongue.

 

"Cas, we can't."

 

But that didn't make any sense.

 

Didn't Dean want him?

 

"I'm sorry, Dean, I just thought..."

 

He didn't know what he had been thinking. And now, he'd made a fool of himself.

 

"I mean, of course, you don't..." want me.

"I'm not..." good enough.

 

"No, Cas, I... I want this. I want you. I just... Michael was right. I don't want you to wake up and regret this. We'll have plenty of time to work on 'us' after we're rid of Balthazar." Dean grabbed Castiel's hand, rubbing soothing circles over it with his thumb.

 

"Michael?"Castiel tried to focus on anything but the feeling of Dean touching him, but it was difficult.

 

"Yeah, Michael. He mentioned how hard all of this must be on you, as if I didn't already know that, and that's why he wanted you to go with him. Neither of us want you to make a rash decision here, Cas, and I'm not sure I'd be able to take losing you again."

 

"Dean, I..."

 

But his words made no sense. He would never leave Dean.

 

"Come on, Cas." Dean stood, pulling Castiel up with him. "Let's go eat."

 

He nodded in reply, allowing himself to be pulled into the kitchen, his hand still closed in the warmth of Dean's. He sat at the table, watching as Dean shuffled around the kitchen, reheating the food in the microwave.

 

He thought about their situation, about Michael's words. He was right to an extent. If Castiel had waited this long for Dean, a little longer couldn't hurt.

 

He sighed. "Okay."

 

Dean turned to him, putting the heated food in front of him on the table. "Huh?"

 

"I suppose I can wait."

 

Dean grinned at that, and the sight made Castiel think lf retracting the statement.

 

Christ, he was gorgeous.

 

"You promised me 50 years, Winchester. I have 37 left."

 

Dean's returning smile was blinding.

 

Once their plates were cleared, Castiel collected them, waving off Dean's protest. He rinsed them and stuck them in the dishwasher, turning to lock gazes with familiar green eyes.

 

"How about a movie, Cas?" Dean's smile was tired. "I'm not ready for bed just yet."

 

Castiel nodded and followed the other man into the living room, plopping down on the couch as Dean shuffled around looking for the remote. He had chosen the middle cushion, figuring that Dean would have no choice but to sit beside him. True to his assumption, Dean sat right next to him, their knees brushing just barely.

 

"Okay, so, most of my movies are back home, but here, we have Star Wars and... Star Wars. I figured Star Wars would be the most practical choice, but if you want Star Wars, we can watch that instead." Dean deadpanned, looking seriously at Castiel.

 

"I'm a little disappointed, Dean." Cas frowned. "I'm not a fan of Star Wars. I much prefer Star Wars."

 

"Sorry, Cas. Looks like you'll have to suffer through Star Wars." Dean grinned, pressing the play button on the remote.

 

Castiel pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his smile against them as the opening credits started. Dean slung his arm around him, tugging him closer, and he fell happily against the larger man's chest, wrapped in warmth and embraced with such security that he felt like he might be dreaming.

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

Cold.

 

It was the first thought that seeped into Castiel's mind as the fog of sleep deteriorated at the edge of his subconscious. He was cold, and his back was aching, and so were his ribs. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and earning a grumbled protest from the body underneath him.

 

Castiel sat up at that, eyes popping open to assess his surroundings. Dean's arm tightened around his waist, but didn't pull him back.

 

They had fallen asleep on the couch, Castiel pressed against Dean, who's head was propped up on the armrest. There's no way that was comfortable.

 

He shivered, eyes drifting to the broken window across the room that was letting in the cold October air. He wondered how long it would be until the sun came up. His hand rested on Dean's arm, which was cold to the touch, and he shook the sleeping man.

 

"Sammy, go away." Dean mumbled half-coherently, pressing his face into the armrest and sniffling. "And turn up the damn heat."

 

"Dean, there's no way your neck isn't aching. Go to bed." Castiel murmured.

 

"Cas?" Dean sat up, the sudden motion on the small couch sending Castiel toppling into the floor. "Fuck, Cas. I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse.

 

"I'm okay, Dean." Castiel chuckled, standing slowly, the joints in his back cracking in protest of sleeping on the couch. "Let's get you to bed."

 

Dean nodded, standing with a groan and a cough. "What time is it?"

 

Castiel shrugged, frowning. "You're going to have a cold when you wake up. How are you feeling?"

 

"I'm fine, Cas." Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to make the words less raspy. "I have the damn pane for that window. I haven't gotten around to fixing it yet."

 

"Go to bed, Dean." Castiel gave him a gentle push toward the hallway. "I'll get you a glass of water." He watched as Dean staggered out of the living room, muttering half-asleep objections.

 

Castiel shuffled through kitchen cabinets, finally locating a clean glass. He filled it halfway with water before moving to the freezer and fishing out four ice cubes. He dropped the ice into the glass, watching as the water swirled with the intrusion before making his way to Dean's room. He knocked lightly on the door even though it wasn't fully shut.

 

"Cas, 'm not thirsty. Lemme sleep." Dean groaned from where he was laying facedown on the bed.

 

"You're not even under the blanket, Dean. Get up and drink this." Castiel set the glass on the bedside table, eyes softening at the sight of Mary's picture smiling back at him.

 

Dean made a sound of displeasure, but he stood from the bed, glaring at the glass of water. Cas shoved him out of the way, moving his pillows and drawing the blanket back far enough for someone to slip underneath. By the time he was satisfied that Dean would be comfortable, Castiel turned to find Dean only in a t-shirt and boxers, shuffling through a drawer.

 

"Um." Castiel could feel the heat pooling in his face when Dean turned, a pair of sweatpants in his hands. There was no way he could have misinterpreted the heat in Dean's gaze when their eyes locked, and Cas had to brace a hand against the wall to ground himself.

 

Seeing this man rumpled and half-asleep and so close to him, Castiel wanted him fiercely.

 

Dean coughed, shaking his head as if to clear it while he pulled on the sweat pants. Castiel moved away from the bed, allowing the other man to slip under the blanket.

 

"Cas..." A hand circled his wrist, causing him to go still.

 

He took a deep breath before his eyes fell on Dean, whose eyebrows were drawn together. Castiel gave him a warm smile as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his hand away to run his thumb over the crease between Dean's eyes. The worried expression dissipated instantly and his eyes fluttered shut.

 

"Go to sleep, Dean."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is shamelessly soup and fluff. Nothing more, nothing less.

It took Castiel half an hour to replace the broken window with the new pane he found on the front porch. He managed to slice open the tip of his thumb, but he had found a first aid kit in the bathroom under the sink. After wrapping a bandage carefully around his wound, he began cleaning. Dean wasn't exactly a messy person, but he wasn't meticulously organized either. By the time he was satisfied with the appearance of the house, the clock on the microwave read 10 am. Castiel decided that the next course of action should be looking for something Dean could eat with a cold.

 

He opened the pantry, eyeing what little food Dean kept in the small closet. There was a package of spaghetti noodles, two cans of tomatoes, a bag of wild rice, and two pieces of bread. He sighed, moving the items around and finding two cans of chicken broth behind the rice.

 

His smile was instantaneous.

 

Castiel pulled out the necessary items and rummaged through the fridge, thrilled to find a clove of garlic that Jess must have left behind after making her lasagna. He couldn't find a bay leaf, but he did find parsley in a drawer next to the stove that he could use as a substitute. After combining everything in a large pot he found in a cabinet by the refrigerator, Castiel went to check on Dean. He knocked lightly on the door, opening it slowly to step inside.

 

Dean was sleeping on his stomach, arms wrapped tightly around the pillow in front of him, his cheek nuzzled into the cotton pillowcase. The sight warmed Castiel, sending an electrifying buzz of happiness and familiarity into the tips of his fingers. He sat gently at the edge of the bed, warily pressing the back of his hand to Dean's forehead. He was a little warm-- probably a low-grade fever. Dean sniffled and shoved his face into the pillow.

 

"Can't fucking breathe, Cas." He muttered, his voice a miserable rasp against the pillowcase.

 

"Do you have anything for congestion?" Castiel ran a hand absentmindedly through the hair on the back of Dean's neck.

 

"Bathroom cabinet." He replied with a groan, rolling onto his back and sitting up in the bed.

 

Castiel stood, keeping his eyes away from the teasing patch of skin that showed at the edge of Dean's t-shirt when he stretched. He hesitated before leaving the room and moving to the bathroom to locate the medicine. When he returned, Dean had given up on waking and was stretched across the bed, his legs still hanging off the side. Cas shook his head fondly.

 

"I'm making soup. It'll be done in about an hour." Dean nodded, sitting up again and taking the box of pills from Cas's fingers. "How're you feeling?"

 

Castiel reached for the half-full glass of water on the bedside table, but Dean swallowed the medicine without it, laying back on the bed.

 

"I need to get up. Gotta fix that window."

 

"Hush." Castiel nudged him until he slid back under the blankets.

 

"Go back to sleep, Dean. I'll wake you when the food is done." He turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand circling his wrist again. "Dean?"

 

"C'mere." His voice was still hoarse, but he gave a gentle tug on Cas' s hand. Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, a startled laugh escaping him when Dean pulled him to lay down next to him.

 

"This isn't right." The words were a raspy whisper in his ear as Dean tucked his face into Cas's chest. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."

 

"Hush." Castiel repeated, a wry smile on his lips as Dean wove his arms around him and pulled their bodies together, and he was pretty sure that the universe was trying to punish him for something.

 

"This is okay?" He spoke sleepily against Cas's skin, nuzzling closer, and Castiel would rather die than ask him to move away.

 

"This is perfect."

 

And it was. Until Dean kept talking, half-coherent rambles tumbling from his lips without his consent.

 

"So happy you're here, Cas. Never thought I'd see you again. Missed you." He sighed, his breath ghosting over Castiel's neck and causing him to shiver. "Love you."

 

He froze then, eyes widening as Dean obliviously fell into the depths of sleep. It shouldn't strike him so hard; it wasn't necessarily a huge leap to think that Dean's feelings for him from so long ago were still lingering. After all, the man had said that he'd take care of Cas, that he'd take him to Kansas and help him straighten his life out.

 

He loved Dean.

 

He had loved Dean every day while he was gone.

 

So, why was Castiel so shaken when he was hit with those words and the implications hidden underneath them? Isn't this what he had been hoping for all along?

 

Castiel gently maneuvered his way out of Dean's grasp, slipping from the bed. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and hesitated in the hallway once the door was closed. It was difficult to name the crushing weight the descended upon his chest, stealing every ounce of oxygen frum his lungs. He moved shakily down the hall and into the living room. His eyes automatically landed on the impala keys laying in a dish on the coffee table.

 

Castiel took a deep breath.

 

It would be so easy to leave, to run away from Balthazar and Dean and those words that were weighing him down. He could take the impala and go to Michael's. He could hide himself away from all of this.

 

He was in the car before he realized what he was doing, starting the engine and tearing out of the driveway.

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

Dean awoke with a start, a slight sense of disappointment flooding through him at the realization that his arms were empty. He sat up, coughing around Cas's name. When he got no response, Dean frowned, climbing out of bed.

 

He let his mind wander as he pulled his blankets straight. He thought of how it felt to tug Cas into bed, how easy it was to fall asleep with his warmth so close, how he had whispered softly as sleep was overtaking him.

 

Dean stood, inhaling sharply as he remembered what he had said.

 

Christ. No.

 

"Cas?"

 

He turned, hurrying from the room and into the living room. Empty.

 

He tried the kitchen. Empty.

 

Cas's bedroom was empty, too. His things were still there, but Castiel wasn't. Dean felt his heart fall into his feet.

 

Cas was gone.

 

He had truly fucked everything up. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut?

 

The growl of the impala's engine drifted into his head, and Dean was at the window in an instant, pulling the curtain back so his eyes could find Cas's form in the driver's seat. He watched as the man pulled a small grocery bag from the passenger's seat and stood from the car, closing the door and making his way inside.

 

"Cas?" Dean stood motionless in the living room, his eyes intent on the man.

 

Castiel ignored him, heading for the kitchen and placing the bag and the impala keys on the counter. He turned, meeting Dean's eyes, who was only slightly aware that he had followed.

 

"I decided that grilled cheeses would be best with the soup, but you were out of bread."

 

Dean fidgeted in the doorway, taking in his surroundings for the first time now that the panic was gone. The house smelled wonderful. The familiarity of it almost knocked him to his knees.

 

"You made...?"

 

"Yeah." Castiel gave him the briefest smile before pulling out the loaf of bread and rummaging through the refrigerator. "I'm not promising that it will compare to your mother's, but I clearly remember her teaching me how to make her tomato rice soup the entire winter my parents took Gabriel to Brazil as a graduation present."

 

Dean watched as he buttered two pieces of bread, opening cheese slices. 

 

Castiel pulled the skillet from the cabinet and turned the stove eye on. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Better."

 

And it was true. Seeing Cas move around in his kitchen gave off all kinds of domestic vibes that Dean didn't want to ignore. It sparked a heat behind his ribcage that fanned into his fingertips.

 

"I thought you had left." He cleared his throat when Cas flinched at the words. "That you weren't coming back."

 

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't my intention when I left." Castiel flipped the sandwich and Dean took a steadying breath.

 

"Because of what I said."

 

Castiel hesitated before confirming. "Yes. Because of what you said."

 

Dean felt like he might vomit. "Cas, I'm sorry. I-"

 

"Dean." He flipped the sandwich onto a plate and began to make another. He kept his back to the other man as he worked, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Do you want to know why I changed my mind?"

 

"Yeah, the thought had crossed my mind, but I-"

 

"You're not Balthazar, Dean."

 

That shut him up. Castiel flipped his sandwich.

 

"I'm aware of this-- that you're not him. I have problems differentiating, though, because he's what I've grown accustomed to. So, when I heard... When you said..."

 

He paused, and Dean's eyes followed the motion of his hand running through his hair nervously.

 

"It was automatic for me to associate that feeling with what Balthazar made me believe it to be." He slid the sandwich onto another plate, turning off the stove eye and spinning to face Dean. He kept his eyes on the ground, though.

 

"I was halfway to Michael's when I realized that I needed to calm down and not make decisions based on what I went through when I was with Balthazar. Because you're not him, Dean."

 

He moved the plates with the sandwiches on them to the table, moving back to the cabinet and fishing out two bowls. He filled them with soup and dug around in the silverware drawer until he found two spoons. Once the food was on the table, he sat, looking up at Dean expectantly. Dean sat across from Cas, never taking his eyes off of him.

 

"And, if I'm being completely honest with myself," Castiel tore off a piece of his sandwich before deciding against eating and sitting it back on the plate. He took to stirring his soup instead. "I started loving you in fourth grade, and I believe I've loved you everyday since, even when I didn't realize it. Even when I hated you."

 

Dean felt his pulse speed underneath his skin.

 

"Even now." Cas spoke softly, his spoon still moving in tiny circles along the inside of the bowl. "I'm sorry I worried you, I just-"

 

He stopped speaking when Dean grabbed his hand, stilling the circling motion of his stirring. He pulled Cas's hand away from the bowl and wove their fingers together, that familiar bubble of heat expanding throughout his body again, and Dean was worried Cas would feel it pulsing from the tips of his fingers.

 

"Oh." Castiel dipped the piece of sandwich he had torn off into his soup with his free hand. "I fixed your window." He popped the bite into his mouth with a smile.

 

Dean grinned back at him, rubbing his thumb over the back of Cas' s hand. "I was going to do that."

 

"I know, but you weren't feeling well." Castiel shrugged and wiggled his thumb against Dean's hand, the material of a bandage rough against his skin. "I injured myself." He chuckled.

 

"Cas," Dean acted without thinking, bringing the bandaged finger to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. When his eyes met the other man's he was taken aback by the warmth in his gaze. "Thanks."

 

"It was just a window, Dean." And he felt like he'd melt underneath that brilliant smile Cas shot him.

 

"Not just for the window. For taking care of me today, and the soup..." He gave his bowl a stir with his free hand to emphasize his point. "And thanks for coming back."

 

"Dean..." Castiel gave his hand a squeeze. "You came back for me first. I'm merely returning the favor."


	12. Chapter 12

They fell into an easy routine, learning to live around one another. It was at Dean's insistence that Cas tagged along with him to Bobby's when he worked at the garage. In all honesty, the man was afraid of letting Castiel out of his sight. He still had too many nightmares of coming home to a blood-spattered house to leave him alone for hours on end. 

When the weekend rolled around, Sam and Jess came to stay. Dean couldn't help the curl of warmth in his chest when Castiel greeted Sam with enough enthusiasm to throw his arms around his abnormally tall frame. Sam seemed surprised, and shot Dean a curious glance, but the older Winchester just answered his brother's silent query with a small quirk of his lips. 

"You look happy." Jess elbowed him as Sam and Cas spoke about the progress of the divorce. 

"She's an observant one." Dean rolled his eyes, but refused to look her way. "I am. Happy, I mean. It took a few days for him to get to a point where he didn't flinch every time I got within three feet of him, but he's getting better." 

"And you?" She kept her voice low enough between them that Dean knew no one else would hear. "When's the last time you had a drink?" 

Dean could feel his face turn scarlet. After that first night, when the smell of the alcohol had triggered Castiel so badly, Dean put the bottle in the cabinet and had been avoiding it. 

"The day you guys left. The smell took him places." His smile faltered at the memory. "I don't want to be responsible for putting him in that mindset. I never want to see him like that again, Jess. He looked so..." When he finally looked at her, she was staring, slack-jawed with the vaguest hint of a smile on her face. 

"What?" His eyes darted back down. 

"You love him." She looked back at where Sam and Cas were speaking. 

It was true. He had even told Cas as much. The truth was, Dean was so far gone that he couldn't even see where he had come from. 

"I told him." The words came out before he could stop them. 

"I'm sorry?" Jess was looking at him again, and Dean felt embarrassed. 

This was one of those talk-about-your-feelings moments that he typically avoided, but he needed to tell someone before his head imploded. 

"That I love him. I told him. I was half-asleep when it happened, but he heard it. And he left." 

"Dean, with everything he's been through, you can't expect him to just-" 

"He came back, though, Jess. I threw it out there, and it was terrifying for him, but he came back. After everything I put him through, he still came back for me." 

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. Dean couldn't fathom how someone who had failed so many people could get this lucky. He didn't deserve this from anyone, much less the person he had ruined. Jess cut off his thinking with a particularly hard slap to the face. He was surprised by the sharp burning in his cheek, and when his eyes refocused, he saw Sam and Cas looking at him worriedly. 

"Dean Winchester, you stop that right now." Her voice was cold and low, still out of the other two's hearing range. "Don't start that self-deprecating shit where you tell yourself that you're not worth being loved. If there's anyone in the world that deserves it, it's you. So, stop counting all of the terrible things that have happened to you, and recognize that you should have just as much happiness as everyone else. Hell, even more than everyone else." 

Dean gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath. He didn't know what to say. 

"Sam's going to take Balthazar the papers today. Has he tried contacting Castiel?" 

"No. Cas keeps his phone off. I don't think the bastard even knows where he is." 

"Good." Jess smiled, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of gravel crunching underneath tires coming up the driveway. 

"Oh, yeah. Jo, Adam, and Gabe are coming over for lunch." Dean nodded toward the truck as it stopped next to Sam's car. 

He was surprised when Bobby and Ellen climbed from the cab with Jo, Adam and Gabe hopping from the back. 

"Also Bobby and Ellen." Jess grinned, moving away from Dean to distribute hugs among the newcomers- even to Gabriel, whom she had never met. 

Dean watched as Castiel greeted everyone, his smile gradually growing as he did so. He felt that familiar burn blooming in his chest as Castiel mingled effortlessly with the closest semblance of family Dean would ever have. 

He was pulled from his musing when Gabriel clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering him inside. Once they were out of sight from everyone else, Gabe pulled Dean into a shaky hug. 

"You okay, man?" Dean returned the embrace awkwardly. Gabriel was always affectionate with Cas, but Dean had never been on the receiving end of his attentions. 

"Thank you." His voice was raw when he finally spoke, muffled into Dean's shoulder. "For taking care of him. For seeing that he needed help when I didn't. He looks so happy now, and I don't know why I never saw-" 

"He didn't want you to know, Gabe. This isn't your fault." Dean took a step backward, placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder in comfort. Gabriel looked up at him, and Dean was sympathetic of the pitiful expression in his eyes. 

He watched as the older man took a deep breath and nodded. "It's not yours either, you know." 

Dean felt the muscle in his jaw twitching before he realized that he had gritted his teeth.  
He opened his mouth to reply, to assert that the situation was entirely his fault, but Cas's voice interrupted them. 

"Dean? Gabriel? Ellen brought pie." Gabriel grinned at his little brother's words. 

"That's an offer I can't refuse." Dean said loud enough for Castiel to hear, and he clapped Gabe on the shoulder once more. 

When the two joined the others in the kitchen, Cas immediately put himself at Dean's side, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the table. Dean couldn't help but notice Sam's blinding smile when he noticed the small amount of contact between them, and he relaxed his hand into Castiel's grip, surrendering to the feelings stirring in his gut.

 

×××××××

 

Dean pushed his plate away with a satisfied groan, sighing happily as he sat back in his chair. Somehow, lunch with the family had turned into dinner with the family, and Dean had consumed more pie than any normal person should. 

"One more!" Gabriel declared, rubbing his swollen stomach as he reached for the last piece of pie. 

"It's a good thing Ellen brought four pies." Sam chuckled, looking around at the empty pie plates scattered across the table. 

"She usually brings extra when I'm invited." Gabriel spoke around a mouthful of pie, shrugging. 

It had been about twenty minutes since Jo had left, taking everyone but Gabe with her. The sight of lights hitting the driveway, caused the older Novak to sigh. Castiel grabbed the lemonade pitcher and refilled his glass. 

"That'll be Luke. " Gabriel groaned and stood. 

"I'll get it." Cas smiled, and Dean couldn't help the shiver that passed through him as Castiel's fingers brushed the tops of his shoulders as he left, the glass pitcher still in his hands. 

"So, what's up between you two?" Gabriel grabbed his coat from where it was draped over the back of his chair. "I mean, it's obvious you're as far gone as he is." 

"Seriously, Gabe? Can we not discuss this right now?" Dean flushed, but answered the question anyway. "We're taking things slowly. I don't want him to-" 

He was cut off by a crashing sound from the front room, and it took Dean only a fraction of a second to place what the noise had been. He was on his feet in an instant, the motion so quick that his chair hit the floor. 

"Cas?" 

He rounded the corner to find Castiel standing in the front hallway, hands shaking and his socks soaked through with lemonade. He was staring straight ahead, and Dean followed his gaze to the front door, where Balthazar's expectant face smiled smugly at them through the window. The boiling anger started in his chest and fanned out through his entire body, overtaking his senses. 

"Son of a bitch." Dean stalked forward only to be grabbed from behind, his arm twisted into his back as his face slammed into the wall. 

"Dean, calm down." Jess's voice was low in his ear. 

He craned his neck around, catching sight of Gabriel carefully maneuvering Castiel away from the shattered glass at his feet. Dean relaxed in Jess' s grip, watching as Sam opened the door. 

"Can I help you?" Dean didn't miss the dangerous dip in his little brother's voice. 

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Balthazar's accent was ringing annoyingly throughout the hallway. "Personal security?" 

Jess released Dean, and he turned to glare at the man, moving to Cas's side. 

"I'm Mr. Novak's attorney." Sam stated, running a hand through his hair. 

"Attorney?" Balthazar balked, leaning to look, around Sam's giant frame at Castiel. "Come on, Cassy. There's no need for a legal spat. This is merely a lover's quarrel." 

Castiel kept his eyes down, and Dean put a hand on the smaller man's lower back to ground himself. He clenched the fabric at the hem of Cas's shirt into a fist, rubbing his thumb soothingly along the skin underneath. He expected Castiel to pull away, but when the other man eased back into the touch, Dean relaxed. 

"I'm afraid this is a bit more than a lover's quarrel. Mr. Novak is filing for divorce." Sam declared, looking at Jess, who had retrieved the papers from the living room. 

"Divorce?" Dean felt Castiel flinch underneath the sharp tone in which Balthazar spat the word. "That's it then, Cassy? You're going to run off with your mechanic with the help of a plaid-wearing security guard who probably printed off his law degree?" 

Castiel went rigid under the words, looking up for the first time since dropping the lemonade pitcher. 

"I graduated from Stanford, actually. At the top of my class." Sam spoke with a sense of accomplishment, and Dean would be willing to bet that he had fixed Balthazar with a bitch face. 

"How cute. I graduated from Oxford. You may be intimidating in size, Gigantor, but I could squish you like a bug in the courtroom." 

Sam sighed. "I don't see how any of this pertains to-" 

"He's right." Castiel stepped forward, and Dean was hesitant to let go of his shirt. His stomach rolled as he watch the worry slip off of Balthazar's face. "Oxford is a better school than Stanford." 

"Finally seeing sense." Balthazar muttered. "Come on home, and I'll forget any of this even happened." 

"And, you know what? A jury would probably take the side of the more experienced lawyer over Sam." 

Dean could see Castiel's hands shaking as he spoke, and he reached to grab one. He couldn't tell if he was holding Cas there to support him, or to make sure that he wouldn't disappear. He couldn't lose Cas again-- not after everything was getting better. 

"Unless," Cas continued, giving Dean's hand a squeeze. "Sam had some kind of evidence of what you did to me. Maybe pictures that Jo took every time I had to crawl to her house? Or video surveillance at the Roadhouse of when you used to drag me into the back room?" 

Dean dropped Castiel's hand before he could crush it in his fist. Sam took a step back, putting a palm on Dean's chest, allowing Castiel to stand up for himself. 

"Oh, Cassy. How could you? After everything I gave you? I loved you when you were nothing." Balthazar kept his voice low and dark, the words nothing more than acid dripping from his lips. 

"Love?" Castiel laughed dryly. "You never gave me love, Balthazar. You gave me your twisted version of it. And, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I allowed it to happen because I thought that I didn't deserve any more than that. I don't want it anymore, Bal. I want to be happy. Truly, completely happy, and I can't have that with you because your touch is toxic." Castiel took a step closer and Dean pressed against Sam's hand, needing to move with Cas, to protect him if Balthazar lashed out. "And, you know what? Sam may not have graduated from Oxford, but he can still legally draw up divorce papers." 

He snatched the file from Jess's hand and shoved it at his husband. 

"And Dean may only be a mechanic, but his name is on the lease for this property, and that means that he can call the police if you don't get the hell out of here." 

Dean felt a swelling of pride bloom in his chest, and he fixed a smug smile on Balthazar. 

The marriage was practically over now; Cas wasn't going to leave him for that pretentious prick. He was overcome with the desire to push Cas into the nearest wall and claim his mouth, press his lips to every mark Balthazar had left on him. Dean exhaled shakily. 

The warmth flooding through him was gone in an instant, the sound of Balthazar slapping Castiel across the face echoing in the entryway. There was a collective silence as Cas staggered backward, shaking his head to clear the fogginess from the force of the blow, and Sam reached out to steady him. With Sam's attention on Castiel, Dean saw his moment of opportunity. 

He lunged, knocking Balthazar off his feet, the two men grunting as they toppled down the stairs. Dean felt his left shoulder pop out of place when they landed on the pavement, but the adrenaline and anger pumping through him let him ignore it. He rolled them until he was on top, delighting as Balthazar cried out before a fist collided with his jaw. Dean punched again. He let out a satisfied snarl when he felt the crunching underneath his knuckles when his blow landed on Balthazar's nose. 

The other man swung, and Dean's vision blurred for a moment when the stroke hit his temple. God damnit, was Balthazar wearing a ring? Because now Dean felt warmth trailing down the side of his face, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess, but none of that mattered because this son of a bitch had hurt Cas. 

Multiple times. 

Dean swung again, and he wasn't sure where the blow had landed, but Balthazar's pained groan was gratifying enough for Dean to feel pleased with himself. 

The next thing he knew, large arms were circling him and pulling him off of his prey, and Dean growled in protest, but his head was still spinning and he was helpless against Sam's grip. He was practically carried into the house, and he could hear muffled shouting through the door as it slammed. 

"Cas?" Dean hardly recognized his own voice. 

"I'm here, Dean." And at some point, Sam had let him go, and now Castiel's arms were surrounding him, soothing him. He didn't know when they had made it into the bedroom, but he was sitting on the bed, Cas kneeling in front of him. "I'm here." 

"Don't go." Dean pleaded, burying his face into Cas's neck. He had attacked Balthazar. He had turned into the epitome of the violence that Castiel was trying to escape. Of course, he would go.

"I need to reset your shoulder, Dean." Castiel whispered. 

"Please, Cas. I'm sorry. Don't go with him." 

He was tired and his head hurt. His shoulder was throbbing, and he felt like he might pass out, but Dean was terrified that he'd wake up and Castiel won't be there. 

"I'm not going anywhere, you idiotic buffoon." Castiel sighed, "I'm going to reset your shoulder, and then I'm going to lie here with you until you can think straight." 

Dean nodded, a pitiful noise escaping the back of his throat. 

"So proud of you." He whimpered, nuzzling further into Castiel's warmth. His words were slurred with exhaustion and pain. "Standing up for yourself and not going back. You were badass. You were brilliant." Castiel tangled his fingers into his hair, holding him closer. 

"One, two..." Cas pulled on Dean's arm, popping his shoulder back into place. 

His scream was muffled into the other man's neck, and tremors shook his body as he clutched tightly at Castiel. He was laid back on the bed an wrapped in another embrace, and Dean felt chapped lips against his forehead before the world finally went black.

 

×××××××

 

He was wrapped around a warm body, a solid steady pressure against his sleep-induced erection, and it felt glorious. 

Impaired by the fog of sleep, Castiel circled his hips slowly into the heat of the body next to him, the friction inducing a breathy sigh that fell from his lips. He rocked more purposely, a whine tearing from his throat and startling him awake. And shit, did he feel embarrassed. He was curled around Dean, who was laying on his back. Castiel had one leg thrown over the other man's hips, and he said a silent prayer that when he glanced up, Dean would still be asleep.

He wasn't, of course. Castiel had expected horror or shock on Dean's face, though, and what he was met with instead made desire swirl through him even stronger. Dean was staring down at him, lips slightly parted, impossible green eyes almost covered by completely blown pupils. Castiel's tongue snaked out across his own chapped lips at the sight, and it was like he could see Dean's resolve break right in front of his eyes.

He let out a slight squeak when he was flipped, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Dean staring down at him with a feral expression on his face.

He wanted this. 

He wanted Dean to pin him to the mattress and make him come so hard that his head goes fuzzy.

But Dean didn't move a muscle, and the wild look in his eyes eventually gave way to something warmer, something softer, and Castiel thought his chest would explode. 

"Tell me you want this, Cas." Dean whispered, keeping his body perfectly still, refusing to allow a break in their eye contact. "Tell me that you're awake and lucid, and that you won't regret it if it happens. That this isn't a side-effect of everything that's happening. Tell me that you won't run from me as soon as things get difficult. Tell me we'll grow old together, and that you'll let me have the opportunity to make you truly, properly happy. Tell me you want it, Cas. I need to hear you say it." 

"Dean." 

He could barely speak, and the word came out as a choked gasp. This moment was so much like the night Dean had left, so long ago. He watched as Dean's eyes filled with hope, fear still clouding the edges of his expression, and Castiel knew exactly what Dean was asking for.

"I love you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is sex. The entire chapter is sex. There are no plot points whatsoever, with the exception of the very last line, so if sex isn't your thing feel free to skip the entire chapter and read that last line.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has read this or left kudos or comments. You guys are awesome.

Dean's breath hitched as he lowered his body onto Castiel's, resting his weight on his knees, which were on either side of Cas's hips, his hands sliding up the bed to interlace their fingers above their heads. When Dean's lips finally touched his skin, Castiel shivered, tilting his head back as Dean pressed kisses against the barely-there bruises on his neck. He felt a tongue sneak out, tasting the skin underneath his jaw, and Castiel let out a muffled groan. 

Dean followed the line of his jaw, making his way to his earlobe, which he took into his mouth with a breathy sigh. Castiel jerked underneath him, whispering his name around a soft moan. When Dean pulled away, he opened his mouth in protest, but their lips connected before he could make a sound. 

Kissing Dean was everything he remembered it to be. The feeling of their lips together was heady and tantalizing, an electric throb pulsing into his body, emanating from the point of contact. Dean tilted his head to the side, slotting their mouths together, and Castiel flicked his tongue across the the man's lips, groaning at the taste when their tongues met. When Dean pressed closer to deepen the kiss, Cas pressed against him, exploring every corner of the other's mouth and committing it to memory. He pulled his hands free of Dean's grip, desperate to touch him, to heighten the intoxication of the kiss by feeling every part of him skin-to-skin. He started at the back of his neck, attempting to pull him closer and getting rewarded when Dean's teeth closed gently on his bottom lip. His thumbs stroked along Dean's jaw line before he moved his hands past his broad shoulders and fingered over the joints of his spine. He was running out of oxygen, and Castiel knew that he'd need to pull away soon, but he wasn't ready to give this up yet. 

It was Dean who finally pulled away, gasping against Cas's lips with a breathless smile. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He murmured, grazing his lips down Castiel's throat as he spoke. 

"I actually think I do." He smiled his reply, his hands creeping across Dean's hips, causing the other man to rock against him minutely. 

It wasn't enough. Castiel wanted everything. He wanted to pin Dean down and rut against him until he found release. He wanted to strip Dean of his clothes, to explore every part of his body and discover all of the enthusiastic sounds he could make. He wanted to taste him, to feel him, to give Dean an orgasm so intense that he'd never leave again. 

Castiel's hips jerked at the thoughts he was having, causing a delicious groan to fall from Dean's lips when their pelvises slotted together. Cas tightened his grip on the other man's hips, trying to pull him harder against him, longing for the electric friction between them. Dean didn't move, though. He simply smirked against the skin of Castiel's neck, continuing to press lazy kisses down the column of his throat. It was maddening. 

"Dean." The word was a breathy whine. "Dean, please." 

"Tell me, Cas." Dean flicked his tongue along the hinge of Castiel's jaw, shuddering at the taste. "What do you want?" 

"Clothes off, Dean. Please." 

Castiel felt like his entire body was vibrating with need. He had wanted this for so long, and he didn't see the point in Dean holding off longer than was necessary. He tugged at the hem of Dean's shirt, slipping his fingers underneath and caressing the smooth skin of Dean's torso. His body was hot, burning under his touch, and he felt Dean shiver against the pads of his fingers as he traced intricate patterns across the other man's ribcage. Dean's head dipped lower, a hand moving to unbutton the top button of Cas' s shirt, and he latched onto his collarbone. Castiel groaned lowly, rocking his hips against Dean for an exquisite moment before Dean lifted his own hips, reducing the amount of contact between them. 

"Dean, please." He begged breathlessly, trying to understand why he wasn't getting what he wanted. 

"Shhh." Dean whispered against his skin, nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons as he chuckled darkly. "I'll take care of you, Cas." 

His mouth followed his hands, kissing and nipping down Castiel's sternum to his navel.

Dean swirled his tongue around the small indention before nipping at the puckered skin softly, and the smaller man shuddered. He pressed open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach on the way back up and Castiel growled when their lips collided again. His hands were now fisted into the fabric of Dean's shirt, trying desperately to get it off of him. 

When Dean pulled away minutely, pulling Cas with him and stripping him of his open button-down, Castiel gave a sigh of relief, pulling at the other man's shirt in an attempt to rid him of it. Dean simply pushed him back down and kissed him again, slipping his tongue alongside Castiel's and finally, finally bringing his hips down in an agonizingly slow drag of friction. 

He threw his head back, breaking their kiss and arching against the pressure. He could feel the hard line of Dean's erection sliding against his own, the course fabric of their jeans sparking another low moan from his throat. He felt Dean's lips pepper kisses across his shoulders as he ground his hips down once more in a deliberately torturous, unhurried motion. Castiel arched again, letting out a disappointed protest when Dean's hips distanced from his own, but he was silenced when those perfect lips closed around his left nipple. Cas shuddered, rocking his hips desperately against nothing, feeling like he was seconds away from exploding, and Dean hadn't even touched him yet. 

"Dean, please." He was begging now, and he didn't care. He was hard. He was aching. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten off, and he could feel that smug bastard smiling against his skin.

Castiel felt Dean's tongue lave over the peak of his nipple and he jerked underneath the electricity fizzling against his skin, tangling his hands into Dean's hair to ground himself, afraid of being swept away by the talented tongue on his body. Castiel groaned when Dean's mouth closed around the neglected nipple, his fingers tweaking his left one, which was still wet with saliva. He shivered when teeth closed gently around the bud, pulling ever so lightly before his tongue ran over the end of it. Finally, when Dean pulled away, Castiel breathed a sigh of loss, his breath coming in short, gasping pants. He felt the warmth of a tongue tracing bruise on his left rib, carefully skirting over the tender flesh of his injured side. 

"So beautiful." The man murmured against the skin of his stomach, fingers skimming the stretch of skin just above the waistband of his jeans, and Castiel opened his mouth to respond but all he could manage was a low moan. 

Dean popped the button of Cas's jeans, and the two of them held their breath to hear the metallic scratching of the zipper being pulled down. Castiel took in a shaky gulp of air, fidgeting when he felt lips press against the top hem of his boxers, teeth pulling gently on the material. 

When he felt his hips being nudged, Cas toed off his socks (which were still slightly damp from lemonade) and raised his lower half so that he could be stripped of his jeans. He felt a kiss fall onto the knob of his ankle, and his eyes wandered down his own body to see Dean, still fully clothed, at the end of the bed, an eager and ravenous look on his face. A chill swept throught him when the air hit the damp spot on his boxers, and it took all of Castiel's will power not to touch himself. Dean seemed too preoccupied pressing open mouthed kisses along his shins and to his thighs, that he probably wouldn't have noticed, anyway, if Castiel had slipped a hand into his boxers to offer himself some sort of relief. When Dean finally made his way to the top of Castiel's thighs, he ran his tongue underneath the bottom hem of the boxers, hands moving to tug minutely at the waistband. 

"Please..." The whisper was broken when it fell from his lips, and Cas thought that he might be dying because of how much he wants Dean to touch him. 

And then, there were lips closing around the head of his erection, applying gentle suction through the fabric of his underwear, and Castiel jerked, tangling his fingers into Dean's hair. He felt hands come around his hips, pinning him to the bed as Dean mouthed over the length of his cock, the warmth of his breath bleeding through the fabric and filling Cas with such an exquisite sensation that he had to concentrate extremely hard in order to keep from coming in his boxers. 

Finally, fucking finally, Dean released his hips, fingers hooking onto the top of the boxers and pulling them down. He moved away for the briefest moment to rid Castiel of the boxers completely before returning, face only inches from his erection. Dean wrapped a hand around him, pumping him at an agonizingly slow pace. 

And then, he was swallowing him down, and Cas didn't remember Dean's hands moving to his hips again, but they were there, holding him still. There was a loud wailing noise, and it took Castiel an embarrassing amount of time to realize that he was making the sound himself. He bit down on his lip to stifle it, but Dean's mouth was so warm that he couldn't focus on much else. When Dean pulled back, he ran his tongue over the head of Castiel's cock, before engulfing him again. 

He could feel the muscles of Dean's throat as he worked to accomodate him, and Castiel practically howled when he felt the other man's nose nuzzling against the hair that sat at the base of his cock. He was close. He felt his toes curling against the bedsheets, and his thighs started shaking. Dean groaned when he pulled back, and Castiel could feel the other man's entire body shuddering against the bed. 

"Fuck, just listen to you." Dean gasped, showering kisses over his still trembling thighs as Castiel felt the urgency fading. "Listen to you coming apart for me." 

"Please please please, Dean." Castiel felt like he was on the verge of crying. 

"I got you, Cas." He murmured in response, pressing one more kiss to Castiel's thigh before closing his lips around the head of his erection again. 

He felt a tongue running along the vein at the underside of his cock, and Cas was suddenly right on the edge again. He fisted his hands into the bedsheets, tossing his head from side to side as he felt Dean's mouth pull him even deeper. 

When he felt the back of Dean's throat opening around him again, he was gone. The coil inside him snapped and he spilled down the other man's throat with a high pitched whine, rocking his hips against Dean's hands. He felt the man swallow around him before he pulled off, lapping up anything that he may have left behind before kissing just underneath Cas's belly button. 

Castiel sighed appreciatively, tugging on Dean's shirt to pull him up, but Dean was too occupied kissing his way across the skin laid bare for him. Dean nibbled over faded scars on his stomach, burn marks from when Balthazar had thrown hot grease at him months ago, and Castiel felt tears pooling in his eyes. 

As much of a wreck he was after Dean left, he had never given himself physically to anyone until Balthazar came along. He had been his first, his only. And, while sex with Balthazar during the early years had been wonderful, Castiel had never been overwhelmed by it. Dean licking across his navel brought him back to reality, and Castiel realized that this felt like so much more than sex. 

It felt like Dean was worshipping him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, possibly to suggest reciprocation, but all he could manage was a choked sob. Dean stilled, instantly crawling up his body until they were facing each other. 

"Cas?" He felt hands framing his face, and Castiel furiously blinked away the tears so that he could see Dean properly. 

"Please, Dean. Please." He fisted his fingers into the man's shirt and pulled him close, not even caring about the aching in his ribs or the discomfort on his sensitive skin when Dean collapsed on top of him. He buried his face into Dean's neck, and when had he started sobbing? Because sobbing was unattractive, and how could Dean want someone so broken if they were also a sobbing mess? 

"Dean, please..." Castiel realized then that he had basically been repeating those two words over and over. The funny thing was, he didn't exactly know what he had been asking for. 

'Please touch me. Make me come.'   
'Please let me touch you. Let me take you apart.'   
'Please never stop kissing me.'   
'Please never leave me again.'   
'Please love me even though I am in pieces.' 

"Cas?" Dean's voice was laced with worry, and Castiel felt a soothing hand running through his hair. "I'm sorry. I pushed too far. I- Fuck, I'm so sorry, Cas." 

The guilt that flooded through Castiel was cold and unrelenting. Dean thought that he had done something wrong, but he had done the exact opposite. It was simply too much for him to take at once, this astonishing love that Dean was so willing to give him. 

"You didn't do anything wrong." Castiel pulled away, and his chest tightened at the emotion clouding the other man's expression. "I'm okay, Dean. I was just... Taken off guard." 

"What do you mean?" Cas felt a thumb against his face, smoothing away the wetness from his cheek, and he pressed into the contact. 

"I'm not used to feeling like this." He whispered. "Feeling important, being cared for... I used to-" 

Dean cut off his words with a kiss, a barely there peck on the lips. "None of that matters anymore, Cas, because now you've got me. And I'm not leaving again. So, you better get used to that feeling, because I am going to surround you with it every day from now on." 

Castiel felt his heart speed in his chest. He pressed his lips to Dean's, surprising the other man when he flipped them, kissing his way down Dean's neck. He was grateful for the way Dean had so willingly taken care of him, ignoring his own need. And now, all Castiel wanted was to feel the other man moaning against him. His hands reached for the button on his jeans, but Dean's fingers circled his wrist, ceasing the action. 

"Dean? Am I not allowed to reciprocate?" He chuckled against the other man's jaw. 

"It's not necessary." 

Dean sounded flustered, so Castiel backed off to look down at him. "What do you mean? Of course it's-" 

"I already got off." 

And Castiel was dumbstruck. "You didn't even touch yourself." 

"Hell, I didn't need to. Did you hear the noises you were making?" The blood ran into Dean's face, coloring his cheeks a bright shade of pink. 

"You..?" Castiel moved back to examine Dean's pants, and sure enough, there was a wet patch of denim on the top of his thigh. He felt his own cock give a valiant, appreciative twitch at the thought of Dean getting off completely untouched-- because of him, no less. 

"You're gorgeous, you know." Dean sat up, connecting their lips in a gentle kiss. "How could I have restrained myself when you were making such pretty noises?" He nuzzled Castiel's collar bone. "And you tasted so fucking good, Cas." 

Castiel was ready to suggest laying back down and staying in bed until they absolutely needed food, but the pounding on the door shocked them both from their hazy state. 

"Dean, get up!" Jess's voice was shaking. "There's been an accident.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is shorter than the others, and that it's a little early. I am on vacation, and I wanted to be able to post something this week before my internet goes poof.
> 
> This is basically a timestamp-- things that were happening elsewhere during the last chapter.
> 
> Special shoutout to everyone who's commented or subscribed or left kudos. You guys complete me okay.

Adam wrapped his arms around Jo's waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. It had been approximately two hours since they had left Dean's place, and they had stopped by the Roadhouse to clean up and lock the building for the night.

 

"The boy looked fantastic. And did you see the way he was looking at Dean?" Ellen was grinning as she spoke, absentmindedly wiping down the dark wood furnish of the bar with a tattered washcloth.

 

"Like damn lovesick puppies, those two." Bobby shook his head fondly. "Idgits."

 

"I'm just..." Jo leaned back into Adam's embrace, and he buried his face into the blonde curls, inhaling the sweet scent of cherry blossoms. 

"I haven't seen him that happy since high school. And Dean? He was acting like a fucking firecracker went off in his head."

 

Adam smiled against Jo's hair.

 

He wanted to keep this moment, one fleeting moment of complete ease. The past few years had been particularly hard on Jo, and he was relieved to see her so worry-free. The evening spent at Dean's did nothing but solidfy her brilliant mood, and Adam was grateful that she was smiling again-- really smiling.

 

"Alright." Ellen sighed, wadding up the washcloth she had been using. "We've been here for two hours, and I don't suppose this place is getting any cleaner. I appreciate you guys hanging around to help, and by 'hanging around to help', I mean 'watching me do all the work while you sit on your asses and gossip'. Let me just grab the dirty rags, and I'll lock up."

 

Adam felt Jo chuckling under her breath, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

 

It had been quite a while since having Jo and Ellen in the same room was this easy. There was a lot of hurt and accusation when Jo decided to go to college instead of taking over the Roadhouse. He was proud of her for chasing what she wanted, though, and now that she had graduated, Ellen was just as content with her daughter's decision.

 

"I'll help." Bobby followed Ellen to the back room, and Adam heard a muffled squeal when the two were out of sight.

 

"Why don't those two get married already?" Adam murmured against Jo's ear, pulling her backward toward the front door.

 

"You know exactly why. She doesn't believe that she needs a ring on her finger to prove to everyone that she belongs to Bobby." She pulled from his grasp and turned in the circle of his arms, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled her outside and toward the truck.

 

"So, you're telling me that if Bobby got his rickety ass down on one knee, your mother would flat-out refuse him?" Adam opened the door to the truck, sliding in after her.

 

"I honestly don't know." Jo shrugged, sighing happily when Adam's arms wove around her waist once more and pulled her against his side.

 

He nosed the underside of her jaw, kissing along her throat and smiling when he felt the vibration on her chuckling against his lips.

 

"You're awfully handsy tonight." Her breath was uneven when she said the words, Adam's mouth traveling to her ear to nip lightly on the lobe.

 

"You've been practically glowing since we left Dean's." Adam shrugged, closing his lips over hers and silencing the conversation.

 

It was so easy for them to get wrapped up in each other, to lose all sense of where they were. Adam had missed seeing her like this, feeling her smile against his lips, her tongue sneaking out to give him a hint of her taste. When Jo finally pulled away, Adam barely heard her speaking; his heartbeat was still singing in his ears.

 

"Do you smell that?" Jo frowned as she repeated the words for him, and Adam shrugged, glancing out the window toward the Roadhouse.

 

He took in a sharp breath, but Jo was already out of the truck, racing toward the building.

 

Adam felt his insides drop into his shoes, staring wide-eyed as a cold chill of horror swept over him. The Roadhouse was crumbling right before his eyes, smoke billowing from the old wood as flames licked toward the sky. He heard a scream.

 

Jo.

 

He scrambled out of the truck, racing to where she was pounding on the front door. He wrapped his arms around her, yanking her entire body away from the building.

 

"Jo, the door's blocked. I'm gonna go around back." He held her face in his hands, trying not to notice the way she was shaking underneath his palms, fear frozen on her face. "I'll get them, okay, Jo? Both of them I promise. Just... Stay back, okay? Call 911." She nodded shakily, and Adam turned.

 

He ran around to the back side of the building, resisting the urge to cough when the smoke invaded his lungs. When he reached the back door, he let out a frustrated groan upon findind it locked.

 

He peeled his jacket away from his body, wrapping the material around his hand before smashing in the glass of a window next to the door. Adam hoisted himself up, crawling inside and coughing instantly. His eyes were burning, and it was hard to breathe.

 

"Ellen! Bobby!" He called, and his throat felt like it was on fire, too. He made his way toward the kitchen, squinting through the thick smoke.

 

"Ellen!? Ellen, where are you?!" Bobby's voice was choking in the darkness, and Adam moved toward it.

 

He stumbled over something hidden in the fog of smoke, crashing to the ground and cracking his forehead against the marble flooring of the kitchen. When he sat up, he was dizzy.

 

"Bobby?" He groaned, spying the silhouette of someone on the ground nearby. The ceiling cracked overhead and, as Adam moved closer, he saw that the man's legs were pinned underneath a rafter that had fallen.

 

"Shit, kid. What the hell are you doing in here?"

 

"As if Jo'd let me leave you guys." Adam rolled his eyes, attempting a quick smile.

 

The truth was, Adam was terrified. His temples were pounding from hitting his head, and he could barely breathe properly.

 

"Let's get this off of you." He moved backward to grab the end of the rafter, and Bobby pushed him away.

 

"Go find Ellen."

 

"I'm not leaving you, Bobby." Adam looked at him fiercely. "Let's get your legs free, and then I'll find her." His tongue felt heavy as he spoke.

 

"Just hurry up." Bobby wriggled against the weight of the wood pressing him down.

 

Adam grabbed the end of the rafter.

 

"One." He readjusted his hands, getting a better grip underneath, not even wincing when he felt the flesh of his palm being ripped open by the splintered wood. "Two..." He took a breath, readying himself. "Three!"

 

Adam's back wracked with a sharp pain of protest as he lifted the beam with all of his might. He heard Bobby cry out, but he never stopped straining against the rafter until it fell to the ground next to the old man.

 

"Damn, I'm getting too old for this." Adam straightened his back out, taking his first look at Bobby's legs.

 

His stomach fell. The man's legs were twined around each other, limp and unmoving.

 

"Can you-"

 

"Can't feel 'em. Go find Ellen."

 

Adam ignored the man's protests when he grabbed him from behind, lifting him by his armpits and dragging him from the building. With a swift kick, the back door flew open, and he heard Jo screaming behind him as he backed out through the door.

 

Suddenly, she was there, helping him heave Bobby across the asphalt. "My mom?"

 

"I'm going back in." He nodded, turning back toward the building, but stopping in his tracks when his eyes locked onto something in the darkness beyond the fire.

 

Was that..?

 

"Adam!"

 

He jumped when Jo yelled, and nodded once more, running back into flaming building. The ceiling groaned overhead as he moved through the back entryway toward the kitchen. He stumbled again, but kept his footing. His head was swimming, and his eyesight was getting fuzzy, but he kept moving.

 

"Ellen!" He stopped just short of entering the kitchen, the flames licking up through the room.

 

Adam realized then how hot he was. He felt like he was on fire himself. Sweat poured from his face, and he shook his head, bending over to surrender to the sputtering cough he had been holding back. That's when he saw it. Right next to his foot was a the dishtowel Ellen had been using. He turned, looking toward where he knew the sink was, and there she was. She was leaning against the cabinet, arms wrapped around her waist. Adam moved closer, still coughing.

 

"Ellen?" He used his hands to wipe the ash from her face, and she offered him a weak smile. "Ellen, let's get you out of here."

 

"Can't." She croaked, giving a weak but stubborn shake of her head.

 

"What are you-"

 

He choked on his own words when she moved her arms from around her midsection, revealing a splinter of wood that had completely impaled her, pinning her body to the wall.

 

"Captain goes down with the ship, boy." She wheezed a breath, but he could barely hear it over the protesting creak of the roof above them. "Get the hell out of here."

 

"I can't just leave you, Ellen. Jo... She'd..."

 

His words were cut off by the sound of the building collapsing on top of them. Over the crashing, Adam could have sworn he heard the sound of sirens wailing, or maybe that was just Jo mourning the loss of the two people she loved most


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a spacing issue, but I am too tired to fix it. Oops.
> 
> I love you guys, though.

Funerals were hard.

 

 

 

Adam had never liked them. But what person in their right might enjoyed a funeral?

 

 

He glanced around him, feeling awkward in his suit, but easing when he noticed that everyone else was also in formal wear.

 

 

It seemed like everyone was here. Jo. Sam. Dean. Cas. Bobby. Ellen. The Novak brothers. Even Ash had cleaned himself up enough to attend. Adam moved to Jo's side, running a soothing hand through her hair as she cried softly into her mother's shoulder.

 

 

He looked past the ominous coffin they were all standing around, catching the silhouette of a man in the distance. He couldn't exactly make out who the shadow was, but he could practically feel the man's rage rolling off of him in waves.

 

 

Adam felt sweat on his brow. He blinked, wiping it away, surprised when his eyes zeroed in on charred markings across his palms.

 

 

He was burning.

 

 

Flames surrounded him, and he screamed.

 

 

He glanced up at the figure in the distance, who was backing away slowly.

 

 

He could hear Jo crying still, begging for someone to hear her, but Adam's skin was on fire.

 

 

And then he remembered.

 

 

The Roadhouse burning to the ground, trapping him underneath.

 

 

Bobby's mangled legs as he pulled the man from the inferno.

 

 

Ellen holding him tightly, going down with her ship. G

 

 

oing down with him.

 

 

Adam flung himself forward, pushing through the crowd to lift lid of the casket. His stomach rolled when his eyes fell upon his own form laying in the box.

 

 

Adam's skin sizzled underneath his suit.

 

 

The world went black.

 

 

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

 

 

"I just told her to get some rest. She looked exhausted, Sammy." Dean's voice was in his head, and Adam wanted desperately to open his eyes.

 

 

"After everything that's happened? Of course she's exhausted. I don't think she's slept in days." Sam's voice responded.

 

 

"Gabriel and Jess won't leave her side. She's well taken care of." Castiel piped up, and it made Adam wonder how many people were there.

 

 

And where he was.

 

 

And what had happened.

 

 

And why his entire body was throbbing.

 

 

"Just talked to Henrikson." A new, unfamiliar voice informed the people in the room. "The inspectors ruled out it being accidental. That means someone set the fire on purpose. Arson. Murder. It's just going to get more difficult for Jo from here."

 

 

"Do they have any leads?" Dean sighed the question, and then Adam remembered.

 

 

The fire.

 

 

Ellen impaled by a piece of the building her husband had built with his own hands.

 

 

The way she had urged him to leave her, and the way that Adam had refused.

 

 

The sound of Jo wailing over the crash of the building around them.

 

 

The sight of Bobby tangled within himself, trying to fight even as he was pulled from the fire.

 

 

The shadowed silhouette of a man standing on the other side of the flames.

 

 

"What are you doing here?" Adam heard anger in Dean's words, and he wondered who had come into the room.

 

 

"Believe it or not, Adam and I were close before..." The British accent trailed off, and Adam wished his body would comply with his wishes so that he could beat the shit out of Balthazar.

 

 

"I was wondering when I'd get to meet you." The unfamiliar voice was quiet, yet not overtly malicious.

 

 

"And you are?" Adam could almost hear the pompous smirk on Balthazar's face.

 

 

"Chuck Shurley." The voice replied. "Jo, Dean, Cas, and I were best friends in high school."

 

 

"Ah, yes." Balthazar's voice was acidic. "The writer."

 

 

"Also, the financier." Adam thought he could hear a grin in Chuck's voice. "Y'know, since it's a conflict of interest for Sam to represent Cas after Dean beat the hell out of you, I've offered to pay for another lawyer."

 

 

Wait. What?

 

 

When had Dean beaten the hell out of Balthazar?

 

 

And why hadn't Adam been there to see it?

 

 

"There are more important things going on now." Sam interjected. "Henrikson's looking for an arsonist."

 

 

"Arson?" Balthazar's voice was surprised. "I just figured the old gal left the fryer on. Hell of a shame, though. She made amazing pie."

 

 

"Get out." Castiel growled, and it surprised Adam. He had never witnessed Cas standing up to Balthazar.

 

 

"Oh, did I offend you, Cassy?" Balthazar chuckled.

 

 

"I think it's best you leave." Dean's voice had dropped an octave, but the tone was steady, menacing.

 

 

"Fine, fine. Just one more question, though. What are the odds of our friend here waking up anytime soon?"

 

 

"The doctor said that he suffered a concussion, a broken arm, and major burns all over his body. Even with the concussion, he managed to drag Bobby out." Adam felt a large hand on his forehead as Sam spoke. "Adam's a hero. There's been no sign of conscious thought, though. So, there's no telling when he will wake up."

 

 

Adam wanted to open his eyes, to let his friends know that he was right here, that he could hear them and he was fine. He willed his eyes to open, his fingers to twitch, his body to portray any sign of life, but nothing happened.

 

 

He was trapped inside himself.

 

 

He wanted to scream.

 

 

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

 

 

"I don't blame you." The words were choked on a sob, and Adam wondered how he was just now hearing that someone else was in the room.

 

 

Or that Sam, Dean, Cas, and Chuck had left.

 

 

How long ago had they been here?

 

 

"I'm so confused." Jo's voice was soft, and he felt a steady pressure on his hand. "I am devastated because my mother is dead. The closest thing I have to a father is now bound to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, and that's painful, too. And then, there's you."

 

 

A hand carded through his hair.

 

 

"You saved him. And you're alive, Adam. Alive... And I know that, when you wake up, you're going to blame yourself for not being fast enough, for not saving her. But, I need you to know that I don't blame you, Adam. You asked me that night, if Bobby proposed, would my mom say yes? And, I don't know the answer to that question, but I know that she loved him. She loved him so much that, if she were alive, she'd help Bobby through being paralyzed. She would stay with him despite how useless he felt."

 

 

The pressure on his hand increased, and Adam felt wetness trailing across his skin. He could picture Jo leaned over the bed, her forehead resting on the back of his hand, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. This was torture. He wanted to hold her, to wipe away her tears and tell her that it would be okay.

 

 

But would it?

 

 

He still couldn't move.

 

 

"I love you like that, Adam. And I promise to stay with you no matter how much you hate yourself after you come back to me. Just, please... Wake up soon. I need you."

 

 

 

 

 

×××××××

 

 

 

 

 

He was dreaming again, and he hated it. He wanted to cling to Jo's voice, to let her anchor him in reality, but his consciousness was fluttering in and out.

 

 

He was at the Roadhouse again, and his hands were on her. He was pulling her close, devouring every inch of her he could get his lips on. He smelled the smoke, and she pulled away, but Adam didn't let her go. He didn't want to run back into that building again the way he had a hundred times before in this recurring nightmare.

 

 

She was screaming, and suddenly, he was there.

 

 

He knocked the glass from the window and climbed inside, locating Bobby easily. The fight the old man put up felt real, even though Adam knew that he was dreaming. He pulled Bobby out of the building, comforted by the feeling of Jo at his side, avoiding the tangled mess of limbs that used to be the man's legs.

 

 

Adam stood, eyes darting across the parking lot.

 

 

Searching.

 

 

He squinted against the smoke burning his eyes as he wracked his brain for the memory.

 

 

And suddenly, there.

 

 

Across the flames, a man stood.

 

 

"Who are you?" Adam advanced toward the figure, but the shadow took a step backward before turning and walking away, his steps spaced in a swaggering and familiar gait.

 

 

Adam clutched at his throat as the smoke invaded his windpipe.

 

 

He knew.

 

 

Someone was screaming in the background, and his vision whited out.

 

 

Adam gasped for air, fighting the tube down his throat , pushing air into his lungs as his eyes popped open. He found Castiel in the room, and he was coated in so much light that it made Adam's eyes hurt. He felt a nurse pull the tube from his throat, and he could hear muffled voices clouding his ears, but Adam had only one word to say.

 

 

He took a ragged breath and choked.

 

 

"Balthazar. "


	16. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. The ending kind of snuck up on me, and it's hard to believe that it's actually over. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos or comments, or even read it at all. You guys mean the world to me.

Castiel was driving at least 20 miles under the speed limit, but no one could blame him. He glanced into his rear-view mirror, eyeing Dean who was sitting in the backseat, a goofy smile stretched lazily across his freckled face.

"I don't understand how I got stuck being chauffeur." Castiel glared, but there was no real malice behind the words.

"I love you."

Dean had kept his promise. Everyday for the past five years, Castiel had been overwhelmed with the warmth of the other man's feelings, which surprised Cas because it hadn't been an easy road after Balthazar was put into prison. It seems that even an Oxford law degree couldn't get him out of murder, arson, and aggravated abuse charges, especially when there had been a witness. All of Balthazar's possessions had been liquidated and the funds had put Castiel through college.

He was a guidance counselor now.

As he drove, Castiel smoothed his thumb over the platinum band on his finger. The pair had gotten married less than a year ago, and the touch of metal on his skin still sent a possessive jolt through him.

"You've managed to turn a thirty minute drive into fifty, Cas." Dean chided, and Castiel shivered when he felt a hand skimming along the back of his neck.

"I can't help it. This is terrifying." He gripped the wheel tighter, sparing another quick glance in the mirror to meet Dean's eyes for a fraction of a second. "I can't mess this up on our first day, Dean."

"You're perfect. There's no way you'd let anything happen to-"

"CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON. THERE'LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE-"

Dean picked up his phone, chuckling. "Yeah?"

Castiel could only imagine it was Sam or Jo. He grinned as Dean rolled his eyes at whoever was on the other end of the line. He mumbled into the receiver for a few minutes before signalling for Cas to pull over, offering him the phone.

"Hello?"

"Two things." Jo was practically screaming. "One, where the hell are you? Two, ADAM PROPOSED."

Castiel gasped, shreiking quietly. "Congratulations, Jo!" He beamed.

He knew, of course.

About two months ago, he had witnessed Bobby Singer, still wheelchair bound, slide a small velvet box across Adam Milligan's kitchen table. No words were needed for the two younger men to know that the ring had not originally been intended for Jo. The three of them had cried into the hard wood of Adam's table, each of them harboring their own guilt for the loss of such a wonderful woman.

"So, where are you?" Jo's voice pulled him back to the car.

"Parked on the side of the road three blocks from the house." Castiel grinned as he spoke, a fidgety giddiness filling his stomach with crazed butterflies.

"...Why are you parked on the side of the road?"

"I don't want to risk driving and talking on the phone at once." Castiel could feel heat crawling up his neck. He heard a child's voice in the background, and a heavy sigh from Jo.

"Someone wants to talk to you." She stated, and the phone crackled as it was passed to another pair of hands.

"Uncle Cas?" The voice was small, and it made Castiel grin even more.

"Yes, Robby?" Cas could hear Jess fussing. "Tell your mom to calm down."

"When will you and Uncle Dean be here?" The little boy grinned, and Castiel could hear it in the pronunciation of his words.

"Almost there. Promise."

"Are you bringing me a surprise?" Castiel laughed at that.

"Kind of. Now, I have to get off the phone so I can drive, Robby. I'll see you soon."

The boy hung up the phone without another word, and Castiel turned to face Dean.

"You ready?"

Dean looked up from where he was staring down into a little pink car seat.

"I love you." He whispered, and Cas couldn't tell who he was speaking to. It didn't matter, though. "Let's go home." Dean sighed happily, his hand trailing through Castiel' s hair. "Let's take our daughter home."

"There's a lot of people there." Cas warned, and Dean scoffed.

"Mary Ellen can handle it. She's tough."

And the two of them smiled as a soft coo came from the car seat, Castiel pulling back onto the road and heading in the direction of home. The cool of metal against the leather steering wheel made him grin. He glanced back at his family in the mirror, and took a deep breath.

He had never been happier.


End file.
